Silent Battles
by Latin D
Summary: Ranma/Robotech. Akane dies at the hands of Saffron, and Ranma, lost in despair, leaves Nerima. Years later, he is found at Macross Island during the infamous Launch Day. Coincidence? The Shapings lurk...
1. Crossroads

Greetings!  
  
A crossover I've been working on for a few months already. I'm sending this, the only chapter I consider polished. You may find the rest (up till chapter 6) at my page, but I WILL post the rest here eventually. Please, please, let me know what you think. I'll be really grateful. Drop me a line, okay?  
  
Latin_D  
  
---  
  
Since the beginning of time, infinite battles have been fought. Some were petty, others were heroic. However, only a few could be compared to the one held between a misguided godling and a courageous martial artist, in a time when magic had been almost forgotten, and true warriors were rare.  
  
The godling was ancient, for he was immortal, and thus had lived for millennia upon millennia. Over the centuries, he had been given many names. Some called him the Master of Fire, for his true form was that of an eternal flame. To others, he was the Traveler of the Air, for his strong wings could reach the highest clouds. He was also named the Phoenix King, for he was the ruler of the bird-people, but his own people simply called him Lord Saffron. He was powerful, and wise in the ways of fighting, but he he had come to allow his pride and anger control his actions. Because of this, he grew irritable, and hateful towards humanity. Some believed him foolish, many thought he was evil.  
  
The martial artist, on the other hand, was still young, and had not achieved so many titles yet. All he owned was his name, Ranma Saotome; all he trully needed was his honor, nothing else. Truth to tell, he was proud, and arrogant, too. This earned him many enemies, but he had a good heart, which gained him even more friends.  
  
From the day he started crawling, he was taught the Art. And as the years passed by, he became strong, agile, skilful in the martial arts: the perfect warrior, an artist of war. The Art was his whole life, his reason to exist. He was heir to the Anything-Goes School of Martial Arts, and that was his place in the world.   
  
On a certain day, he met Akane, the daughter of one master of Anything-Goes, and got engaged--through an arrangement of their parents. And despite all their differences, and their constant bickering, and their prides, and all the people who wanted to see them separated, and all the people who wanted to see them together, and his reluctance to admit it, he fell in love with her.   
  
After that, everything changed.  
  
For, although the Art was still a big part of who he was, and who he wanted to be, it didn't seem as important as it had before when compared to Akane: taking care of her became his reason to exist, for _she_ was his whole life now. His place in the world was by her side, and he would have died for her. Or killed.  
  
On many occasions, Akane was kidnapped or endangered, and every single time Ranma fought harder than ever before, and rescued her. Thus, everyone came to believe he would always win, for, after all, doesn't the hero always save the damsel in distress?  
  
No, he doesn't.  
  
But when Saffron came and told Ranma his fiancee would die if he lost, Ranma's companions couldn't help but think: 'There is nothing to worry about. Ranma will win once again, and Akane will be safe.' And they were both right and wrong.  
  
Seconds became minutes, and minutes hours, but however hard Ranma tried, he couldn't overcome his opponent. Yet Ranma knew time was crucial, and it was quickly running out. He had to go all out, even if there was the danger of killing his enemy.  
  
To kill in cold blood... Skilled in the martial arts as he was, never before had he been forced to kill. There had always been another option, a way out. Not this time. Could he really do it? And so deeply did he love Akane that there was only one answer: yes.  
  
Thus he called upon his innermost power, one he had forbidden himself to ever use. One that promised hunger and thirst, and countless nightmares. An energy the like of which had never before been witnessed by human eyes ran through his veins, filling his heart, his lungs, his whole being. In that moment, he became a god. He was able to destroy cities at a whim; he could easily obliterate entire mountains, overthrow governments. He could have done anything he wanted, no one could have stopped him... and that scared him. But seeing Saffron moving to attack, he waited no more, and with a blast of raw energy, as pure and white as snow and bright as a newborn star, he sent the godling to his death for the first time in centuries.  
  
Ranma hurried to his love's side and held her gently to him, but it was too late. No matter how loudly he shouted her name, she would not wake up. So he cried for hours, and when he had no more tears to pour, he simply died. In mind and spirit, he died. And he was sure his body would follow soon. Everything had been taken from him: he had no goal, no hopes, no future. Surrendering to his grief, he lay down on the grass to wait for the end.  
  
But Destiny, that mysterious master, had other plans for him, and would not let his life go to waste. So the martial artist fell asleep, and dreams were sent to him. He dreamed about the past and the future, about things that had already been, and things that might be, and about a war, and his place in it. When he finally awoke, the grief was still in him, but he was also alive. He had found a reason to live.  
  
---  
  
  
DISCLAIMER: Ranma 1/2 belongs to the brilliant Takahashi Rumiko. Robotech is owned by Harmony Gold USA, Inc. No copyright infringement is intended.  
  
This story is based on McKinney's books.  
  
___________________________________  
  
SILENT BATTLES  
  
A Ranma 1/2 / Robotech crossover  
  
by Latin_D (latin_d@uol.com.ar)  
  
___________________________________  
  
  
Chapter 1: Crossroads  
  
---  
  
Ranma walked slowly through the streets of Macross, enjoying the comforting warmth of the shining sun. The sidewalk was beautifully shadowed by the leaves of the tall carobs that had been planted all over the city. In a small park, children giggled loudly while they ran.  
  
How peaceful it was here! That was what he loved about this place. Since he was a little innocent kid, his life had been all rush and excitement: training all the time, always fighting for his life, and, of course, the occasional curse, potion or spice...  
  
Well, he was tired now. Tired of all the craziness, of all the problems. He just wanted--needed--calm. Some quiet place for resting and thinking. For deciding what to do with his life. Maybe after he got rid of those flowers he could stay in Macross and open a dojo of his own. Yes! And then he could find Ryoga--with enough time he was pretty sure he could. And...  
  
He stopped himself with determination. This was neither the time nor the place to daydream. He had to be patient. First he was going to do what he had come to that island for. Then he would make plans for the future.  
  
He closed his eyes, a contented smile on his face. Outstretching his senses to their limits, he could feel every single thing happening around him, no matter how trivial it seemed to be: the gentlest breeze, the tiniest leaf shaking in the trees, the almost non-existent sound he made while walking, the hardness of the lamp post against his cheekbone...  
  
Ranma picked himself up from the sidewalk staring all the time at the now demolished obstacle. He couldn't believe he had been so engrossed in the beauty of the day as to drop his defenses. How could he be such an idiot? Constant awareness was the only reason he had survived the harsh years that followed his departure from Nerima. As always when he thought of his former home, memories of better times flooded his mind.  
  
---  
  
The forest had seemed endless. The air was so hot and oppressive that they had had trouble breathing. They had walked for hours and hours, and all they were able to see in every direction had been trees. Well, that was not entirely true. They saw trees, bushes, weeds, climbers and more trees. And insects, lots of them. Clouds of tireless mosquitoes surrounded and followed them during the whole trip, no matter what they tried to do to repel the irritating bugs. It had been unbearable. He had no idea what Hell was like, but he was pretty sure those winged torturers lived there.   
  
Only that stupid father of his could call that a training ground. They hadn't even been able to find a clearing to set up camp! Where were they supposed to train? Oh, he had been _so_ angry with his idiotic pop... If he had just been there, he would have let him know how pleased he had been with his choice. But, of course, the old man stayed on the shore, fresh and comfortable. 'Taking care of the boat,' he said. The nerve of that guy. Like there was anyone on that island forgotten by the gods...  
  
But Ranma had not been alone. Akane had come with him. Always by his side, in every battle, in the saddest moments. Of course, he hadn't appreciated it then, not at all. He had called her a nuisance, told her to leave him alone. Yet, she had stayed and taken care of him. How could he have been so blind?  
  
Finally, they found a nice, quiet spot with almost no trees. They spent three days there, working out and training all the time. On the morning of the fourth day, something changed their routine.  
  
The sun was beginning to show its bright face in the East, but Oyaji was still asleep in his tent, exhausted though he had only sparred for a few hours. He was definitely getting old. Resting next to the campfire, Akane and he had been talking about nothing, chit-chatting, both comfortable with each other's presence. It was incredible how well they fared when there were no fiancees or enemies to keep them apart. Yes, incredible.   
  
After some time, they stopped talking and lay down on the grass side by side, gazing at the cotton-like clouds that populated the sky. They even held hands for a while. Seeing her there, so perfect and beautiful under the sunlight, so relaxed and full with peace, made Ranma realize the moment had arrived. It was finally the right and perfect time to confess his feelings for her. Well... At least, he had thought so. He had had no way of knowing what was about to happen.  
  
He was about to start with the always-difficult task of talking to Akane without putting his foot in his mouth, when she suddenly called him, "Ranma, look! In the sky--it's a falling star!"  
  
And indeed, as soon as he looked up, he caught sight of a glowing point flying swiftly though the sky. It was leaving behind a shining path of fire that seemed to originate from the sun, as if a piece of the star had decided to meet the Earth at last. Ranma stared, mesmerized, for some minutes, his former intentions forgotten for the time being. He used to look at the stars for hours when he was living in the road with his father, but he had never seen anything like that.  
  
That's something he would have loved to do: travel through the space, see the galaxy--like an astronaut. Ha! Could you imagine that? Ranma Saotome: the astronaut. ´Ryoga would laugh for a whole hour if I told that to him,´ thought Ranma, shaking his head. Soon, the falling star had got out of sight, hidden behind the horizon.  
  
"You should make a wish, Ranma. They say it always comes true," said Akane with that caring, warm voice he would always remember as hers in later years.  
  
Not knowing what Fate had in store for him, he had thought it was a good idea. Wrong decision.  
  
"Um... Okay."   
  
His first choice was one that would make the Devil proud: power. He foolishly wanted to be the best martial artist in the world. However, he suddenly remembered his curse. He also needed a cure, didn't he? What was the use of being the best if you are only a half-man? ´Besides, I _already_ am the best,´ Ranma thought, a cocky grin in his lips.   
  
Finally, too late, he came to his senses. He wished for him and Akane to be together. He had finally come to an agreement with his own feelings. He was in lo--he had feelings for the tomboy, there was no denying it. All other engagements be damned, he would face the consequences. But he never had the opportunity to probe his words.  
  
He was staring into the distance, lost in thought, when the glowing point reappeared over the ocean. In that moment, the island started shaking.  
  
---  
  
Ranma stopped rummaging through his brown leather backpack and, taking out a white envelope, resumed walking. Opening the envelope, he grabbed the old-looking photograph it contained and held it aloft. It showed a young man in his thirties, dressed in an immaculate sailor suit. He was wearing extremely polished knee-high boots, and had so many medals on his shirt it seemed impossible to find place to hang a new one. He had dark hair, and the beginnings of a moustache were evident. The man was smiling and waving to the camera, while in the background a gray warship appeared about to leave, from the frantic activity evident in the port. Looking closely, Ranma discovered a Russian flag painted in the ship's hull, something he hadn't noticed before.  
  
´Mom said Uncle Henry'd be waiting for me. I hope he remembers me,´ thought Ranma while putting the photo in his pocket. After all, he himself barely remembered the man. He hadn't seen Uncle Henry since he was a little boy, before going off on the infamous ten-year-long training trip. How was he going to recognize him? All he had was an old photo, and it was twenty years old!  
  
´It doesn't matter,´ he decided. Luck was on his side for the first time in many long, never-ending years. An uncle working in the famous SDF-1; it was almost too much to believe. He just hoped he had an important position--he really needed to get inside that ship.  
  
He was slowly but steadily approaching the airshow. Many people were walking in the same direction, all laughing and chatting. He supposed it wasn't strange they were in a good mood, with a free show on such a beautiful day.  
  
He could see the spaceship in more detail now. It was amazing! This was the second time he had seen it, and the one thing that struck him the most was its sheer size. Ranma couldn't help but marvel at how huge it actually was. He was sure the entire city of Macross could fit inside. And it wasn't just big, it also looked powerful. It seemed this single ship could take on an entire army without even trying. He didn't remember it being so imposing. Of course, it had been a broken and burnt wreck the last time...  
  
---  
  
Ranma had known nothing then about the Super Dimensional Fortress One, or about the importance its arrival would have for the human race. He and Akane had witnessed three orbits of the mysterious object, each closer to the Earth and more catastrophic than the last, until it had finally decided to abandon the air. The overheated spaceship's hull met the ocean within their sight, vaporizing millions of gallons of water in less than a second. A white cloud emerged as if by magic to hide it.  
  
"Wha-what is it?" asked Akane, stumbling over her words. Her face was deathly pale.  
  
"I don't know," Ranma shouted above the rumble, "but whatever it is, it's _really_ big, and it's coming really fast. Let's get out of here!" He scooped her up in his arms and ran for the coast, a fully-awake Genma at his heels.  
  
He flew through the forest at full speed, getting hurt many times by low-hanging branches but not caring at all. Despite all his effort, they hadn't covered more than a few miles when the SDF-1 finally crashed against the island. Metal met earth and rock, and crumpled and changed, screaming its pain. The collision was deafening. So much so, that Ranma was stunned by it, and thus didn't react at first when a tree was sent flying through the air in his direction.   
  
"Ranma!" cried Akane, terrified.  
  
That had been enough. Using every ounce of experience in the martial arts he had, he jumped high in the air, barely avoiding the impending trunk. Landing safely on the ground, he hurried with his father behind a large gray boulder.  
  
"That was a close one." Akane was still in his arms.  
  
"You think so?" she asked, sarcasm in her voice.  
  
Peering over the rock, they could see how their abandoned tent collapsed under a trunk. Miles behind it, the spaceship was gliding over the rocky ground, the friction and its unbelievable weight eroding its initial speed.  
  
"It's slowing down." Ranma had always had an uncanny ability to state the obvious.  
  
"Yes, b--" Interrupting her, Ranma tackled Akane to the ground, a big boulder missing her head by mere inches.  
  
A rain of debris and chunks of wood ensued, and they again dove for cover. After what seemed like eternity to the unfortunate campers, it finally stopped and the ground became still again, signaling the end of the ship's journey through Macross Island. An eerie peace followed, almost unreal when compared to the recent havoc.   
  
Slowly, almost fearful of what they were about to see, Akane and Ranma stood up and gazed at the alien spacecraft. Theirs had been the first human eyes to fall upon the SDF-1, and though they hadn't understood it then, a new era had begun.  
  
"Ranma, what _is_ that thing?" asked Akane, her eyes wide and fixed in the blackened monstrosity.  
  
"I don't know, Akane. I don't know."  
  
Astonishingly, the ship itself, though burnt and obviously damaged, seemed to be in one piece. It barely fit on the tiny island, and was quickly cooling in the fresh morning air. The nearby forest, however, had not been so lucky. It had been devastated during the unexpected landing: a large crater surrounded the wreck where the land had crumbled, and outside its area, most of the trees were uprooted or leafless and dead. Their tent was still where they had set it, though partly burnt and under a pile of fallen trees.   
  
Ranma was no engineer, but it amazed him that something had been able to stand such a crash. It had to be some secret government project, maybe a new weapon constructed by the Neasians. Or it could be some kind of UFO, come from another pl--He really had to stop reading so much manga, it brought strange ideas to his head.  
  
Whatever it was, something about it made his hair stand on end. He couldn't be sure, being so far from the smoldering ship, but he thought he could see movement in its hull. Perhaps he ought to take a look at that thing. ´Yeah, that's exactly what I should do,´ he decided.  
  
"Akane, wait here," said Ranma, and started walking towards the wreck. 'Started' was about right, because before he could make one step in its direction, Akane's hand caught him by his shirt, halting him.  
  
"Where do you think you are going?!" she thundered, anger and concern evident in her voice. "It could be dangerous!"  
  
"Hey! I'm gonna check that thing out. What if there's some survivor or something? We can't just leave him there," he reasoned. In those days, he had been trying not to snap at Akane and instead try to explain things to her. Even though most of the time his temper had still got the better of him, there had been occasions when it actually worked. His body had definitely _not_ been missing the extra beatings.  
  
"Maybe you are right," she conceded grudgingly, "but I'll go with you," she finished in a tone that left no room for discussion. Ranma didn't want to argue with her, not that day, so he wisely kept his mouth shut.   
  
"Okay, you can come. What about you, Pop?"  
  
"Uh..." Genma's brow glistened with sweat as he fearfully looked at the wreck. "I don't feel that good, I think I may be coming down with something. Why don't you both go? I'll go and prepare the boat so we can leave quickly when you return. Yes, that's exactly what I'll do." He started edging away from the couple.  
  
"Take care of your fiancee, boy." Turning around, he practically ran toward the forest.  
  
They stared in the direction he had gone for a moment. Then, shaking their heads, they headed to the ship.  
  
Several minutes later, Ranma and Akane stood by the wreckage, dwarfed by its colossal size. The looming structure lay motionless before them, but Ranma couldn't notice anything strange or unusual about it. Well, except for the fact that it had come from nowhere and that it was unbelievably large. Perhaps he had been letting his imagination run away with him. Perhaps.  
  
"What do we do now?" asked Akane, neck arched back trying to gauge the ruin's height.  
  
"What else? We get into this... whatever, and see if there's anyone."   
  
´Actually, _I_ get inside it and you stay waiting safely outside,´ added Ranma mentally.  
  
"I know that, you jackass!" snapped the youngest Tendo. "What I meant was _how_ we were going to get in."  
  
Good point. "Well, I suppose I could break a hole big enough for us." Walking towards the ship's battered hull, he gave the metallic surface a tentative blow. When he pulled his fist back, there wasn't even the slightest mark on it.  
  
"What the..." Increasing the strength of his blows, he proceeded to give the spaceship the pounding of its existence. However, even after several tries, the metal was hardly dented and didn't seem about to give in.   
  
"This is tough stuff," recognized Ranma while gently rubbing his sore hand. "Maybe with a ki-blast..." he trailed off, realizing for the first time that Akane was nowhere to be seen. Panicking, he started frantically searching for any sign of her, when he suddenly heard a voice calling to him from the distance.  
  
"Ranma! Over here!" Akane was no more than a couple hundred feet away, standing next to some sort of circular protuberance and waving for him to come. "I think I found a hatch!"  
  
Behind her, the hatch snapped open.  
  
---  
  
Up in the air, six planes flew in tight formation. Ranma, led by the stares of the awed public, caught sight of them, and couldn't help but be impressed at these beautiful fighters. Though he wasn't very interested in war machines, Ranma had seen quite a lot of different combat planes during his life--as had every other person who lived in the Global Civil War times. None had looked like these: precise, swift, sleek, deathly. A shiny canopy and lots of ammo completed the picture.   
  
He thought he remembered hearing about them somewhere. "Veritech fighters" they were called, if his memory worked. One of the new United Earth Government's most secret projects. Well, at least as secret as every other thing even remotely related to the so-called Robotechnology was those days. He wondered what all the fuss was about; they weren't anything more than a new model of plane, right?  
  
For a moment, he wondered how it would feel like to pilot a plane like those ones, but after a moment of consideration he dropped the idea, berating himself for even thinking about it. ´Who needs a plane when your own _body_ takes to the air like a duck to water?´ thought Ranma, following the fighters while they cut the air at speeds believed impossible just a few decades ago. After all, could the pilots feel the wind over their skin while they fly? Could they breathe this gentle sea breeze inside their locked pressurized cockpits? No, they couldn't. They were in a prison of metal and circuits, completely dependant on machines to stay alive. He probably knew more freedom while he roof-hopped than they did in their whole life.  
  
Around him, people gasped in amazement as the white Veritechs executed a dive, only to level up at the last possible moment. Yet, no matter what these Veritech fighters could do, to Ranma there was only one star in this show: the SDF-1. In his eyes, nothing could even begin to be compared with the titanic spaceship that had burst into his life so long ago.  
  
Trying to get sight of the ship, he turned around--only to bump his head against a man's back. Quickly apologizing, he looked around, but all he could see were faces of strangers. Somehow, he was lost in a sea of people. Unbelievable. One minute he was watching some planes, and the next thing he knew, he was in the middle of a crowd of thousands. Funny that he got lost heading towards a spaceship that was in full view. Maybe this was how Ryoga felt.  
  
Not far from where he was standing, a platform had been erected. At that moment, the public address system announced the start of the demonstration. Some guy dressed in a military dress uniform appeared on the stage, and the throng greeted him fervently. Tall and proud, with finely chiseled features and a thick mop of blond hair, he fell into a relaxed posture, hands locked behind his back. Certainly good looking. Handsome even, if you liked the pilot jock type.  
  
´Heh, I'm much more handsome!´ Ranma gloated to himself. ´Besides, It's not like I need an uniform to attract girls... Yeah, I can use either martial arts or Pop's arrangements for that.´  
  
Chuckling, he tried to decide what to do next. Maybe he could jump over the crowd... No. That would put him in the spotlight, and that's something he definitely didn't need right now.  
  
´Oh, well. I guess I'll have to do it the hard way,´ he thought resignedly. Slowly making his way through the people, he heard the roar of the planes' engines as they executed a pass over the stage. No time to see the show. He had people to see, business to attend.  
  
There only was one thing he didn't understand: what were they all laughing about?  
  
---  
  
As if in slow motion, Ranma had seen the hatch open, both halves sliding apart almost soundlessly. Five segmented metallic tentacles shot swiftly out from the dark hole. Not wasting time, one of them snaked towards an unsuspecting Akane, who still hadn't noticed them. It had happened all too quickly.  
  
"Akane! Get out of there!" he yelled, but it was already too late.   
  
One of those nightmarish tentacles caught Akane in an iron grip, and started waving her through the air.   
  
"Ranma! Help me!" Akane screamed, struggling against it to no avail.  
  
Not stopping running for a moment, he shot a Moko Takabisha to the tentacle that held Akane. It broke in half and went limp, immediately releasing its prey. Using another of the tentacles as a springboard, he caught Akane as she was falling down and, without even looking back, ran for the woods.  
  
"It's okay, Akane. It's okay," he whispered in her ear while still running, trying to calm her sobbing fiancee.  
  
When they reached the beach, Akane was still a bit shaken, but she seemed to be calming down rather quickly. He guessed living in Nerima had somehow hardened her, or something. He started to put their stuff in the boat when Akane suddenly gave a yelp. He whirled around, half-expecting to see more of those damned tentacles attacking them.  
  
"Oh, no! I forgot my backpack in the tent!" she hurriedly said. "I have to go back to get it! My diary is in it!"   
  
"Wait!" Ranma practically screamed. "It's too dangerous! Wait!" But she was already disappearing in the trees. He started to go after her, but Genma raised a hand, stopping him.   
  
"Don't go, boy," he said, a serious expression in his face. "She can take care of herself. Besides, you won't be able to follow her through such dense vegetation."  
  
"But she--"  
  
"She is a martial artist, too. Now come here and help your poor father to get these heavy things into the boat."  
  
"Get out of here, old fart!" He kicked him in the face and sent him flying towards the sea.  
  
´But he's probably right. She'll get mad at me if I go after her. Maybe I should wait for a while,´ he thought. Casting a last worried glance in the SDF-1's direction, he turned around and slowly walked to the boat.  
  
Five minutes, ten minutes, twenty minutes passed, and Akane hadn't come back yet.  
  
"Pop!" Ranma called. "I can't wait any more! I'm gonna go look for her!"  
  
Magic words, those were, because as they left his mouth, a puffing Akane stepped into the beach. Kneeling in the yellow sand, she panted for breath. She was carrying her black leather backpack.  
  
"Where were you?! What took you so long?!" he snapped as he hurried to her side and helped her to her feet.  
  
"Oh, Ranma. You won't believe this. I found the strangest--" She never finished this sentence.  
  
"There's no time to talk. We've got to get going. I don't wanna spend a minute more on this island."  
  
Akane nodded, and they quickly gathered the few things Genma had managed to rescue from the campsite.  
  
As their boat left the island, a group of choppers appeared in the horizon.  
  
---  
  
´This must be the place,´ the pig-tailed martial artist ventured to himself as he gazed at the small wooden sentry box behind the tall wire fence. About a dozen soldiers stood next to it, all of them with menacing rifles at the ready. He couldn't see their features clearly, as they were effectively hidden by the shadow projected by the SDF-1, which lay no more than a few dozens miles ahead, blocking the sun. But as he reached the control post, one of them approached him and, without opening the gate, asked him what was he doing here.  
  
´So, this is a restricted area?´ wondered Ranma. ´But Uncle Henry's letter says I have to go through here... Okay, time to see if I know the right people.´  
  
"Wait a sec'," he said, cutting the soldier in mid-speech. "I have an invitation for today's ceremonies." He handed the invitation his uncle had sent him with the letter and couldn't help but smirk when the man's eyes widened in surprise.  
  
´Well, well, well. It seems he has an important position after all. Much better,´ thought Ranma as he waited for the sentries to get confirmation.  
  
The day was just getting better and better.  
  
Not having anything better to do, he started looking around lazily. To his left, to his right, up, and down his gaze traveled. He studied the soldiers. They were all wearing green and brown fatigues and brown boots. Looking carefully, Ranma distinguished the letters 'RDF' neatly embroidered in the fabric. They seemed very relaxed, calmly chatting among themselves, some smiling or even laughing.  
  
´Well, it's a happy day for them, I suppose,´ Ranma reasoned. He knew--as virtually every other person over the world--that the SDF-1 was going to be launched and thus would leave Macross today, and the rest of the military personnel would surely follow. They probably had several off-duty days ahead.  
  
He studied their weapons. Glossy black, nasty-looking, _really_ big rifles. They were immaculate and looked brand new. Everything was shiny and at its prime that day. Or so it looked like.  
  
Sad. They really don't understand. No mater how many times they polish their rifles, they will still be ugly. They won't ever obtain grace through simple shine. There's no honor in bullets, just as there's no honor in war, Ranma stated in his mind.  
  
´What was that?!´ he wondered after a short pause. ´I think Kuno is rubbing off on me. Next thing I know, I'll be reciting bad poetry and kissing my female side in the mirror.´   
  
Then, he studied the SDF-1. So full of secrets, so mysterious. Who had sent it? With what purpose? Would anyone ever come back to reclaim it? So many questions... and the answers were inside the ship itself, he was certain.  
  
He studied himself. He might be a few years older, but, in his humble and unbiased opinion, he looked better than ever. At twenty-six, he was taller and slightly more muscular--but he still had that Saotome charm his father used to talk about. Of course, he was wearing his old short-sleeved red silken shirt and the usual black pants. He couldn't remember the last time he had worn a different clothes. Sure, sometimes, when the weather was cold, he changed this shirt for the long-sleeved one, but that didn't count. Maybe he ought to change his style... Nah. Probably no one would recognize him if he did so.  
  
Finally, he slowly looked upwards, and there, a tiny orb in the firmament, was the moon. Quiet, desert, peaceful moon. Ancient, eternal moon. So beautiful... And yet, as he stared at it, something nagged him. There was something odd about it, something wrong... Argh! He just couldn't put his finger on it.  
  
It must be my imagination, he calmed himself and forcefully averted his gaze. He never looked back at the moon during that day.   
  
´What's taking them so long?´ he asked himself. ´I don't have much time!´ Ten minutes had passed and the soldier was still on the phone.   
  
He had heard a news bulletin saying that the SDF-1 was leaving in its maiden flight at three o'clock in the afternoon. That left... only two and a half hours to get inside and do his business.  
  
´Be patient, calm down,´ he ordered himself. Patience was one of the things he had never learned. He was fairly good at meditation, but that was a complete diferent thing.  
  
At that moment, the soldier finally hung up, a perplexed look in his face.  
  
´It's about time!´ Ranma couldn't help but think as the sentry opened the fence's gate. He stepped through it, ignoring the other soldiers, and started walking towards the spaceship at a fast pace. A few more miles. Just a few more miles and he could start.  
  
Suddenly, as it had so many years ago, the island of Macross started to shake. Startled, Ranma noticed movement on the starship's bow. There, between the twin booms that formed the front of the ship, a show of light and sound started. Red-orange energy circled around and between the booms, connecting them in a bridge of flame. Whirling, spinning, dancing, it almost seemed alive in Ranma's eyes. A high-pitched sound came out from the booms as the energy began concentrating in their tips. Finally, the SDF-1's main gun shot forth a tower of starflame, raw energy erupting from its bow and howling off into the distance. A powerful shockwave swept the trembling spaceship's surroundings, throwing Ranma off his feet and into the ground.  
  
Soon, the rumble stopped. He slowly put his head in his hands. ´Why do these things always happen to me?´ he silently asked, but no one answered.  
  
As he stood up, he could hear alarms going off in the city.  
  
---  
  
To be continued...  



	2. Nightmares

Um, I got more reviews with my 4k fics that with this series... Funny. Anyway, seeing that interest on this is low, I'll post chapter 2 and get done with it. Please, send comment. I need them; I crave the stuff, people. If there are reviews, I'll post the next chapter. Otherwise, I'll just go shoot myself. ^_^  
  
---  
  
  
DISCLAIMER: Ranma 1/2 belongs to the brilliant Takahashi Rumiko. Robotech is  
owned by Harmony Gold USA, Inc. No copyright infringement is intended.  
  
This story is based on McKinney's books.  
  
___________________________________  
  
SILENT BATTLES  
  
A Ranma 1/2 / Robotech crossover  
  
by Latin_D (latin_d@uol.com.ar)  
  
___________________________________  
  
  
Chapter 2: Nightmares  
  
---  
  
Standing no more than a few miles away from the SDF-1, Ranma tried to come to a decision. What should he do now? That was the million dollar question. He had absolutely no idea what had happened a moment ago. One minute, he had been walking towards the SDF-1, a ship he had wanted to visit for some time now. The next, that same ship had fired a blast of energy over the city. A _very_ powerful blast.  
  
He spun around and looked around Macross. The crowd was slowly dispersing, the confused people scattering toward either their houses or the impressive underground shelters Ranma knew the government had built years ago.  
  
To say the army was on alert would have been the understatement of the year. All of the soldiers he had seen near the fence had hurried away just a second after the ground had become still again. They had got into a green jeep parked next to the sentry box and had taken off at terminal velocity, leaving a puzzled Ranma behind. A Ranma full with doubts.  
  
´Now what?´ he asked himself mentally. The SDF-1 was one big klaxon, as Veritech after Veritech took to the air in rapid succession. It didn't seem the right moment to visit a lost uncle...  
  
Maybe he ought to go to the shelters--not that he couldn't handle whatever it was the SDF-1 had shot at. No, not at all.   
  
´Besides, I'm sure I'll have another chance,´ he thought, almost as if he were trying to convince himself. ´At least, I hope so.´  
  
Giving the great starship a last longing look, he slowly headed further into the city.  
  
---  
  
Two days had passed since the SDF-1 had crashed in their camp, and by then, both the Saotomes and the Tendos knew it was actually an alien spaceship. Many politicians had called its arrival a miracle, but to Ranma, it had just been another strange incident in his hectic life.   
  
So, there he was, performing a kata in the dojo, when Akane decided to give him a surprise: she cooked dinner.  
  
Everyone quickly left the house, leaving a terrified Ranma behind. Ranma knew he had been unfair, he shouldn't have been feeling that way. After all, Akane _was_ getting better. By then, her tea was almost as good as Kasumi's, and her curry was at least passable. Better yet, when supervised by either the elder Tendo daughter or Nodoka--or both, for more security--she could cook simple meals--like rice or something.  
  
But that day, she had done the forbidden: she had improvised.  
  
She didn't follow a recipe, as she said she already remembered one she had once read in a magazine. Big mistake number one. Innocently, he had asked her what ingredients she was using. She had just given him an enigmatic smile and said, "Oh, just some wildflowers and vegetables I found in the island. I'm sure you'll like them." And with that, she had run to the kitchen, leaving a bewildered fiance behind.  
  
´Wild... flowers?!´ he thought. Okay, big mistake number two.  
  
Two hours he sat at the table, every single minute spent making up excuses to say to Akane. Perhaps if he said he was ill... No, he never got ill. A challenge? No, that wouldn't work, either. No matter how many fights he managed to get into during the day, he rarely missed a meal.   
  
He was still absorbed in his musings, gazing intently at a wall, when Akane came in with a big white bowl. A big bowl full with... some greenish stuff. That's the most accurate description Ranma came up with in the long minute he stared at the dish.  
  
"What is this?" he fearfully asked.  
  
"A salad, of course," she said with a pride-filled voice.  
  
He peered again inside the plastic bowl. He could notice strange-looking petals, chopped stems, and what he thought--hoped--were leaves. What the heck had she put in there?!  
  
He quickly came to a decision: he _had_ to do something to get out. Anything!  
  
"Uh... Akane, I'm sorry, but I gotta go--" he started, but stopped himself when he noticed the expression on her face. She looked so sad. Suddenly, a small tear appeared in the corner of one of her eyes and, after a moment of seeming hesitation, toppled over, tracing a wet path on her cheek.  
  
Sometimes, a tear is stronger than a thousand mallets.  
  
Steeling himself, he grabbed the chopsticks in a strong grip. Sweat poured down his face, but he kept repeating to himself that he couldn't fail Akane. She had put so much effort in preparing this. He just couldn't. He wouldn't. He would _not_.  
  
To his credit, his hands didn't tremble when he took the vegetables to his mouth. Maybe it would have been better if they did.  
  
His mouth closed over the leaves.  
  
---  
  
Alone, again. The shops were closed, the deserted streets void of the thousands of people that had been there minutes before. It appeared evacuations plans had been prepared beforehand. In less time than he spent walking back towards the city, all of Macross' inhabitants had gone indoors. So he was in the middle of a ghost town, trying to find his way to the nearest shelter. And he was _not_ going to ask for directions.  
  
´Now, if I were an impregnable underground shelter, where would I be?´ A dog's angry barks were his only answer.  
  
From his position, he was able to distinguish the supercarriers anchored in the port. Aircraft of every kind took to the sky from its catapults. A swarm of Veritechs already soared through the air, fast as rockets, flying towards the ocean.  
  
´Whatever it is that's happening, it must be serious.´  
  
He followed the planes for as long as he could, till they were only tiny black specks in the canopy of heaven. Moments later, any evidence of their presence in the air was gone. He was about to resume walking, when something caught his eye. The part of the sky where the Veritechs had been seconds ago was suddenly bathed in yellow points of fire. Short-lived, they disappeared and reappeared constantly in different places, almost like...   
  
´Explosions!´ thought Ranma in sudden realization. ´The battle must have started.´ He stared at them for some time, but he soon got bored.   
  
´Not really interesting to look from here. Anyway, it has to be one hell of a dogfight.´  
  
He wandered through the city for several more minutes, still unable to find anyone. He was about to give up, when he suddenly heard a voice from somewhere around the corner. Ranma made a dash for the place--and found a little boy playing with a toy plane--a Veritech. He was wearing a yellow sweatshirt and blue bib overalls, and had shoulder-length chestnut hair.  
  
Running along the sidewalk at a breakneck pace and making loud engine-like noises, he was enjoying himself, and thus didn't notice he wasn't alone any more. Ranma was still looking at him, when the boy stumbled over a loose tile and lost balance, starting to fall and letting go of his toy. Not thinking twice, Ranma jumped towards the boy and caught him before he touched the ground. Without loosing any momentum, he leapt again and caught the miniature Veritech. Calmly now, he set the slightly shaken boy on the sidewalk, steadying him with his arm.  
  
"Here ya go," said Ranma as he handed him the plane. "You should be more careful, kid. You could have gotten hurt."  
  
"Sorry," said the kid sheepishly.  
  
"No prob." After all, he had done worse. He still remembered the first time he had tried to walk over the fence.  
  
"How did ya do that?" asked the boy after a moment of hesitation.  
  
"Do what?"  
  
"You know--you caught me and the plane, and you were so fast..." he trailed off, obviously at a loss for words to explain what he had seen.  
  
"Oh, that." He shrugged. "Lotsa training. You see, I'm a martial artist," he explained nonchalantly.  
  
"Really?" His eyes were wide and filled with admiration.  
  
"Yeah." He didn't like the look the boy was giving him--it sort of reminded him of Asuza. ´Time to change the subject,´ he wisely decided. "What's your name, kid?" he asked with a warm smile.  
  
"Jason!" chirped the boy.  
  
"Hey, Jason. I'm Ranma."  
  
"Hi, Ranma! Wanna be friends?"  
  
Ranma winced. 'Not the best words to use, Jason. Not now. But how were you gonna know.´ Still, he deserved an answer.  
  
"Sure, kiddo. I'd love to be your pal."  
  
"Cool," said Jason with a big smile. "Maybe you can teach me martial arts later, or something."  
  
"It's a deal." He probably wasn't going to have time to keep this promise, but there was no need to disappoint him. "But tell me, Jason. What are you doing here alone? It could be dangerous, ya know," Ranma almost chided. Funny, that he was lecturing someone on not taking dangers. Maybe he was growing up or something.  
  
"Mom and Dad told me I could go and play for a while," said the kid defensively.  
  
"I guess it's okay then... Tell me, Jason, where do ya live?" Maybe his parents could tell him where he could go.  
  
"There, in that restaurant," he answered, pointing at a Chinese restaurant in the far end of the street with one of his little fingers. Next to a big wooden door, a sign read ´White Dragon´. For some reason, it made him remember the Nekohanten. He just hoped Jason's parents weren't amazons.  
  
"Are your parents in, Jason? I'd like to talk to them."  
  
"Sure! C'mon, let's go! My cousin is there, too! She's the greatest!" He eagerly grabbed Ranma by his arm and started dragging him towards the restaurant, tirelessly droning about how much he was going to love his family.  
  
´Oh, man! What have I gotten myself into?´ thought Ranma, desperately trying to keep his footing.  
  
---  
  
He had known he was going to his doom, but he hadn't known how terrible it was.  
  
His tongue finally touched the salad, and Ranma gazed down, staring at his food wide-eyed. It was delicious! He had never eaten something so tasty!  
  
"Akane, you're sure _you_ cooked this?" Ranma asked, amazed.  
  
"Of course. Why do you ask?"  
  
"It's the best thing I ever ate!" It was the truth. Not even Kasumi had cooked something so perfect, so... right. He just couldn't stop stuffing himself.  
  
"Oh, Ranma. Are you serious?" asked Akane with tears in her eyes.  
  
"Sure. Give me more, will ya?" he said while handing her his plate. He wanted more. He needed more.  
  
"Yes, Ranma. Here you are." A wide smile showed in her face as he saw Ranma fell on the food as if he hadn't eaten for a week.  
  
Soon, the bowl was empty, the salad gone. Ranma felt still hungry, but strangely satisfied.  
  
"That was excell--" He couldn't finish, as the room started spinning around him. ´Retarded effect,´ he concluded, steadying himself with the table. ´I should have known better.´ He tried to get up, but fell to the floor as soon as he released his grip on the table. Akane yelled something he couldn't make out, and the world became a strange place.   
  
He saw sounds, smelled colors. His senses were overwhelmed by an attack of light--and voices; some were old, other young; some were screaming, other were singing. And even through his confusion, he felt... something, taking form in his body, in his soul. He didn't where exactly, but it was there. A connection of sorts--a bond, a key. To unlock what, he still didn't know.  
  
As suddenly as they had come, the voices were gone, and the room became still. Exhausted for some reason, he started closing his eyes. The last thing he saw was Akane tearfully talking into the phone. Then, the world went black.   
  
---  
  
Jason opened the door and pushed Ranma inside. There were only two people in the restaurant: a short man with broad shoulders who seemed to be going bald, and a tall slim woman with short, black hair. He supposed they were Jason's parents, as it wasn't probable there were patrons during an alert. ´Unusual couple,´ thought Ranma while comparing them. The boy quickly released Ranma's arm and ran towards the couple.  
  
"Mom, dad, this is my new friend Ranma," Jason said brightly. "He wants to talk to you."  
  
"Hello, pleased to meet you," Ranma said politely, bowing. After so many years living with his mother, he had finally learnt some manners. Some.  
  
"Hello, young man," the big man said, standing up and bowing as well. Then, he held out his hand to him. "My name is Max, pleased to meet you too."  
  
Ranma quickly shook his hand, and the man continued, "And this is my wife, Lena."  
  
"Pleased to meet you, Ranma," Lena said, rising from her chair and bowing.  
  
"Hi." He wasn't able see the kid any more. Maybe he was back in the street.  
  
"Well, now that the boring pleasantries have been exchanged, what can we do for you?" Max asked with a friendly smile. He looked to be a man of action; the sort of person who didn't care about etiquette and formalities: Ranma's kind of man.  
  
With a small grin, he explained, "Well, I've just arrived to the city and I don't know where to go during the alert, so I thought that maybe you could tell me where the shelter is."  
  
"There's one a mile or two towards the hills. You could go there."   
  
"But he shouldn't stay in the streets," Lena said, frowning slightly. "It could be dangerous."  
  
"Oh, you're right. Well, the evacuation hasn't been ordered, so you don't have to go to the shelters yet," Max informed, his hand stroking his chin pensively. "Why don't you stay here till everything calms down?"  
  
Ranma wasn't expecting the invitation, but it did sound like a good idea. "Okay, if you don't mind..." he trailed off.  
  
"It's decided then, you'll stay here," Max said cheerfully, and clapping Ranma on the back. "Come on, sit down and tell us something about you!" He practically shoved the pig-tailed youth into a chair.  
  
"Okay," he started while gently rubbing his back. Max had some strength! Perhaps he was Ryoga's long lost father. "I arrived he--" He was interrupted by the sound of loud footsteps and shouts coming from upstairs.  
  
"Come on! You have to meet him! He's very fast, and tall, and strong... and knows martial arts, too!"  
  
´Heh, that must be me,´ Ranma thought, mentally grinning. ´Very accurate description, if I say so myself.´  
  
"What is it, Jason? I'm busy right now. Wait!" a voice sounded from the staircase. A woman's voice.  
  
He turned around just in time to see a girl going down the stairs. She was wearing a short red dress and was being forcefully dragged down the stairs by Jason. She appeared in her mid-teens, and had long raven black hair. She was slender and had shapely long legs and a beautiful face. She strolled gracefully to the table where they were sitting, Jason trotting excitedly to her side.  
  
"Oh, hi! I'm Minmei," she greeted cheerfully, noticing Ranma.  
  
"Hi. Name's Ranma. Nice to meet ya." He had to recognize she was very pretty. Not as pretty as Akane, but then again, no one was. She had a certain charm, with those honest blue eyes and her angelic features, that made her easy on the eyes.  
  
"Nice to meet you, too," Minmei said, smiling.  
  
´She sure has a nice smile,´ Ranma thought, smiling in return.  
  
"Well, son, you were going to tell us about yourself," Lena said.  
  
"Oh, yes." ´Where should I begin?,´ he pondered. ´Nerima is out of the question. Besides, they wouldn't believe me. Jusenkyo? Nah. Well, the basics will have to do.´  
  
He was about to start telling the edited version of his life story, when a tremendous crash thundered from outside the restaurant.  
  
It seemed it was going to be one of those days. Again.  
  
---  
  
When he woke up, he found himself in a dim room. He was lying in a soft bed, the only light provided by the moon, which he could see poking out from a window to his right. How had he got there? The last thing he remembered was eating some of Akane's food and... taking a rest--martial artist do not faint.  
  
´Once more, a victim of Akane's cooking.´ He sighed. But something was different this time. He had loved the food. How something so delicious could be harmful at the same time was beyond his grasp. ´Maybe Kodachi put something in the food. Or the Old Ghoul,´ he considered, his eyes focused in the barely-visible ceiling.   
  
He still felt strange, as if something was stirring in his body. Something he didn't even know existed a few hours ago. It was so confusing! He remembered the voices, the lights. They were telling him stories, but he couldn't understand them.  
  
He shook his head, trying to clear it. He had to focus and forget about those damn... hallucinations! Sitting upright on the bed, he looked around for the first time. He was not alone. Someone was sitting in a chair next to the bed--a woman--but seemed to be asleep, her chin resting in her chest. He struggled against the shadows for a few seconds trying to find out who she was. Long locks of black hair hid her features, but he guessed her to be Akane, as she was wearing a wrinkled Furinkan's girl uniform.  
  
"Akane," he called softly, almost timidly. She stirred slightly, but didn't wake up.  
  
"Akane," he repeated, louder now. Once again, she failed to wake up, so Ranma slowly reached to her and gently shook her. Before he could do anything, a hand grabbed him by his arm and threw him to the other side of the room. He was so surprised that he didn't react, and thus hit a wall head-first.  
  
A lesser man would have been knocked out by that, but Ranma was no common person, and thus was still awake--if slightly dazed--when Akane ran to him, lifted him up, and hugged him fiercely.  
  
"Oh, Ranma! You're okay!"  
  
´No thanks to you,´ he thought, but didn't find the strength--or the will--to say it aloud.  
  
"I'm so sorry! Please forgive me!" she continued, tightening her hold on him.  
  
"Er... Um..." he stammered, nervous. This was an Akane he had never seen before. "Akane, I'm fine now. You can let go."  
  
Apparently realizing the position they were in, she quickly released him, backing away a few steps. Ranma could see how a slight blush spread across her cheeks. "Sorry," she said, looking down.  
  
"No problem," he assured her, also gazing down to his feet. A tense silence ensued, till Ranma decided to end it, asking, "Where are we, Akane?"  
  
"In my room," Akane answered, obviously relieved by the change of subject. "Father thought you would be more comfortable here."  
  
"Mr. Tendo's here?" he asked, confused. When Pop and Mr. Tendo went out for a drink, they usually didn't return till way after midnight. "Just how long was I out of it?"  
  
"Er, Ranma, you've been unconscious for six days now," she said, not looking at him.  
  
"SIX DAYS?! How?!" he shouted, bewildered.  
  
"Well, I don't know. Dr. Tofu said that you were in some kind of coma, and that all we could do was wait and hope..." she trailed off and, after a taking a deep breath, she continued, "I was so worried!" Tears started cascading freely out of her beautiful eyes and Ranma, swallowing his nervousness, tenderly gathered her in his arms. She immediately put her head in his shoulder and started sobbing.  
  
"Shh, Akane. I'm okay now, am I not?" Ranma softly said. His mind, however, was a whirlwind. ´In a coma!´ He couldn't believe it. He rapidly examined himself. His muscles were full with kinks after the prolonged immobility, but it was nothing a few hours of training wouldn't fix. His eyes seemed fine--he didn't see any strange lights dancing in front of them. In fact, they seemed better than fine. His sight was keener than ever, and even in the poorly-lit room there was nothing he couldn't see. The same thing happened with his other senses, as if something had heightened them somehow. Straining his ears, he was able to hear his father and Mr. Tendo talking in the living-room over the now terrible loud rumble of Akane's sobs. He could feel an almost non-existent breeze against his skin, and he guessed it was coming from under the door. His nostrils twitched lightly as the most luxuriant fragrance he had smelled in his life reached him. ´Akane's shampoo,´ he realized with a start. What the heck was going on?  
  
And there was more. He didn't know how to explain it, but he was seeing shadows in the room, shadows that shouldn't be there. Some had well-defined shapes, like the old-looking desk that rested against the wall--or the big bookcase crammed full of books placed above it. He could also see a tall translucent tree through the window, in a place where he knew was bare just a few days ago. Other shadows were amorphous, and he had no idea what they were.  
  
´I'm going crazy,´ Ranma decided, closing his eyes. ´I need to get some sleep.´   
  
Meanwhile, Akane had apparently calmed down, and had her eyes closed.  
  
"Akane," he called, but she gave no answer. He could clearly hear her peaceful breathing. ´She beat me to it. She's already asleep.´ Trying to not wake her up, he gently put her in her bed.  
  
´Rest well,´ he silently wished her while covering her with a blanket. Then, he left without sound.  
  
Already in the passage, Ranma thought of what he ought to do next. He could go to his bedroom and see if he would be able to get some rest, or he could go downstairs and make his pop know that he was already up. After a moment of consideration, he decided on the former. His father would find out soon enough, and for some reason, he felt incredibly tired. He made his way to the guestroom, all the time struggling to keep his eyes open. Already inside it, Ranma collapsed onto his mattress, not even sparing time to undress. He fell asleep in an instant.  
  
The nightmares began that same night.  
  
---  
  
Quick as lightning, Ranma ran to the door and opened it. Stepping onto the sidewalk, he was astonished by what he saw.  
  
A damaged plane--maybe a Veritech--was apparently trying to land in the street, but in doing so it was destroying building after building. At least, Ranma thought it was a plane. It had two long metal legs outstretched in his direction, with powerful thrusters in the "soles" of his humanlike feet. Two metallic arms with their respective hands came from under the cockpit, one of them wielding what looked like some sort of weapon. The complete picture made Ranma think of an eagle posed as if about to catch its prey.  
  
Despite all the damage the plane was producing, it didn't seem to be affected at all. The crashes, though, were slowing it down--and sending tons of ruble and concrete flying in all directions.  
  
Deciding that self-preservation was the best part of courage when confronted with a rampaging, out-of-control plane, he went back towards the threshold--where Jason was already standing, his mouth agape.  
  
´Two times in a few hours. I thought I'd lost the ability to be surprised. Guess not,´ he concluded, grabbing Jason's shoulder to keep him from going into the street.  
  
"What is that?!" Max shouted, who had just arrived to the door, over the din.  
  
"Don't have a clue. Maybe a new kind of plane," he ventured, unsure.  
  
Finally, one of the thing's feet crashed against a metal post, destabilizing it and breaking its somehow-smooth slide, and causing it to be sent spinning towards a nearby office building. After a few moment, it stopped moving.  
  
"Stay inside. I'm gonna see what that thing is," he ordered Jason, who merely nodded.  
  
He started heading towards the downed aircraft, but something made him stop dead in his tracks. He couldn't believe his eyes. Amongst the rubble, the plane was... changing, shifting--there wasn't a word to describe it. It slowly altered its shape, the cockpit hiding while a "head" of some kind appeared at the top. When once it could by all rights be described as a mechanic eagle, in front of Ranma stood now what looked like a man in armor, a humanoid robot of sorts.  
  
He didn't know why, but he had the strong impression that his life would change dramatically after this day.  
  
Again.  
  
---  
  
To be continued...  



	3. First Steps

Well, going on vacations, so this will be the last chapter posted till March. If you want to read the drafts for the following chapters, go to my page, okay? And please, please, send comments. Send me a mail, if only to say "hi".  
  
---  
  
  
DISCLAIMER: Ranma 1/2 belongs to the brilliant Takahashi Rumiko. Robotech is  
owned by Harmony Gold USA, Inc. No copyright infringement is intended.  
  
This story is based on McKinney's books.  
  
___________________________________  
  
SILENT BATTLES  
  
A Ranma 1/2 / Robotech crossover  
  
by Latin_D (latin_d@uol.com.ar)  
  
___________________________________  
  
  
Chapter 3: First steps  
  
---  
  
The Battloid slowly stood, a shower of concrete and rubble falling from its metallic shoulders. Still alone in the street, a gaping Ranma could see how it moved its humanoid "head" this way and that, as if looking for something. After a moment, it stopped. Gazing in its same direction, Ranma found out what it had apparently been looking for: the distant explosions of the dogfight.  
  
Closing his mouth for the first time in minutes, Ranma tried to sort out what had just happened. A very strange plane, which had seemed to have arms and legs, had tried to land. In doing so, it had managed to devastate an entire block.   
  
´I hope there wasn't anyone in those buildings,´ he thought, worriedly glancing at the partly-destroyed office buildings.  
  
Then, when it had finally come to a stop, the fighter had begun changing. Some stuff had moved this way, some other had slid that way--and instant robot! Then, the sturdy-looking humanoid robot stood up and seemed almost completely unscathed. Sure, there were some small dents in the armor and a few holes in its chest, but he would have expected a lot more damage in a plane--or something--that had just crashed against several concrete walls at almost terminal velocity.  
  
´Maybe I'm dreaming?´ He thought, almost hopefully. ´Nah, I'm not that lucky. Damn!´  
  
Deep in thought as he had been, he hadn't noticed the small crowd that had started gathering around the now-frozen Battloid. Quickly, a torrent of rumors and speculations arose from the gawking people.  
  
"Could be a new weapon."; "We're being attacked by aliens!"; "Looks like an autobot to me."; "It just fell out of the sky!"; and a million similar comments flowered around Ranma.  
  
He smirked. ´Well, Ranma, what have you learned today?´ he silently asked himself. ´That some places are even weirder than Nerima.´  
  
Suddenly, the Battloid started moving. It took a few lurching steps, like those of a drunkard, but stopped again a moment later.  
  
"Wow! What a cool robot!" Gazing to his right, he could see Jason standing next to him, looking intently at the machine with wide eyes.  
  
"Guess so..." Ranma trailed off. Maybe now it was a robot, but a minute ago it had looked like a fighter plane of sorts. ´Perhaps it's a convertible plane?´ he wondered.  
  
"Let's go upstairs, Ranma! We'll get a good look from there!" Jason grabbed Ranma's hand and started dragging Ranma towards the restaurant.  
  
Luckily, Max appeared in front of them, halting the hyperactive boy. "Son, let go of Ranma. Maybe he doesn't want to go."  
  
"But he _does_ want to go. Right?" Jason asked with pleading eyes.  
  
"Er... Um... Well, Jason, I should really get--" he started, but quickly stopped himself when Jason's eyes began moistening. "I mean, I'd love to go!"  
  
"Great!" Jason chirped, his tears forgotten.  
  
With a knowing look in his eyes, Max put a hand on Ranma's shoulder. "I pity you," he said, giving him an amused smile. "Take care of him, Ranma. Don't let him get too close to the window, okay?"  
  
Ranma could only nod before someone started pushing him in the White Dragon's direction.  
  
"We gotta hurry, Ranma! C'mon!"  
  
´Oh, man. Why me?´ thought Ranma while looking to the sky, as if searching for an answer in the small clouds.  
  
They stepped through the doorway.  
  
---  
  
Minmei looked at the retreating forms of her cousin and the tall man, Ranma. Should she go with them? While she was worried for Jason, Ranma was already there to look after him. But she was also interested in the tall man. Seeing his strong, broad back and the long pigtail fluttering behind him, she formed an opinion: ´He is kind of cute, if a little too old.´  
  
There was something else about him, something she couldn't quite put her finger on. The way he walked perhaps--so gracefully that he made other people look clumsy in comparison. Or maybe it was that aura of confidence that seemed to surround him, permeating everything he did. He was... mysterious--and Minmei loved solving mysteries.  
  
Besides, _she_ was the one who had to take care of her cousin. She couldn't leave him alone with a total stranger, right?  
  
Making a decision, she shouted, "Wait for me!" and hurried towards the restaurant's doorway.  
  
---  
  
Gazing out the top-story window, Jason was looking up at the Battloid's head with obvious delight. "It's huge!"  
  
Standing behind him, Ranma shrugged. "Maybe. But after you've seen the Orochi, things just don't look that big any more."  
  
Minmei just entered the room just in time to hear his last comment. "What's an Orochi?" she asked, curiosity evident in her voice.  
  
Ranma started sweating profusely. How do you explain to a person that you have met a dragon? "Er..." He was saved from further interrogation when the Battloid's head bent slightly forward.  
  
"Look! Its back opened up!" squeaked Jason happily. Ranma could see how an empty pilot's seat set in a metal post rose slowly from the Battloid. At first, he thought that there was no one running it, but then the post went higher with a soft whir. It revealed another seat, this one occupied by a young man. He had medium-length mussy black hair, and was wearing a white and orange uniform that almost hurt the martial artist's eyes.  
  
´Not that impressive. Looks rather skinny to me,´ thought Ranma.  
  
"What the..." muttered the pilot under his breath, but Ranma's sensitive ears picked it up anyway  
  
"What's the problem?" the martial artist called out loudly over the low hum of the throng below.  
  
Startled, the pilot almost dropped the strange flight helmet he had been carrying. He looked in their direction, noticing them for the first time. Ranma couldn't help but smirk when he saw how the young pilot's eyes lingered on Minmei for a moment more than necessary.  
  
"Er, hi," he greeted uncertainly. "Tell me, does this look like a robot to you?"  
  
"Yeah, I'd say so. Why?" Maybe he had been hurt in the crash and lost his memory?  
  
"Oh, nothing," he said after a long sigh. "I just thought I was crazy or something. This used to be a fighter, you know."   
  
"It's a joke, right?" said Minmei, unbelieving.  
  
Ranma shook his head. "No, he's telling the truth. I saw that thing changing. But tell me, kid, how come you don't know what it is? Aren't you the pilot?"  
  
"My name's Rick, not 'kid'," said the pilot, a little angry. "And this wasn't my idea. Some woman ordered me to take off, so I took off. It's the Army's fault!"  
  
"Okay, whatever. But did you have to make so much damage?"  
  
"Hey, do you think it's easy to pilot this thing?" asked Rick, annoyed at the pig-tailed man's attitude. It's not like he had wanted to crash against those buildings.  
  
Ranma shrugged nonchalantly. "Can't be that hard."  
  
"Oh, yeah," Rick drawled. "Then why don't you come here and try?" he invited, holding out his helmet.  
  
"I just might! After all, I can't mess up worse than you... KID," taunted Ranma, grinning.  
  
They were interrupted by the sound of a horn coming from the street. Looking down, both could see a truck standing next to one of the Battloid's foot. Its driver had half his body out of the window and was yelling loudly, shaking his fist. "Hey, you! Move this thing! I've got supplies to deliver and I haven't got all day!"  
  
Rick sighed, resigned. "I'll see what I can do." Then, he turned to Ranma. "We'll continue this later." There was still a trace of anger in his voice.  
  
"Any time," he said defiantly, trying to refrain a smile from reaching to his lips. ´I like the kid. He reminds me of myself at his age--but not as handsome.´  
  
Rick got back to his seat, and it started lowering. In that moment, Minmei blurted out, "Good luck!"  
  
The young pilot was caught off-guard by this, and so was only able to stammer timidly, "Uh, thanks!" before the support pillar was out of sight, hidden inside the enormous machine.  
  
Ranma looked curiously at the girl, but she merely turned around, blushing slightly. Jason, who had been oblivious to the whole exchange, yelled, "Hey, it's moving again!"  
  
The Battloid stirred, and slowly moved its head to its former upright position. It began raising one of its colossal feet, but lost its balance, and started falling backward. Seeing this, the crowd in the street panicked, and ran in all directions, screaming and wailing. Right before the war machine could crash against the tall office buildings behind it, its back thrusters fired for a moment, sending it stumbling in the direction of the White Dragon.   
  
Ranma saw the Battloid staggering towards them and, realizing it wasn't going to stop, he quickly collected Minmei and Jason in his arms and ran for the door. The Battloid crashed against the window behind which Ranma had been standing and completely destroyed it--along with half of the restaurant.  
  
"Are you okay?" asked Ranma when the rubble had stopped falling.  
  
"Sure!" came Jason's happy reply.  
  
Minmei was coughing from the dust, but managed to compose herself after some time. "Yeah, I guess so," she said.  
  
"Good." Ranma turned to the Battloid, which lay now sprawled over a mountain of concrete and girders. "Hey, boy! You all right?!" he yelled.  
  
"Yes," came Rick's voice over the Battloid's external speakers.  
  
"Great. Would ya make me a big favor?"  
  
"What?" asked Rick, confusion reigning his voice.  
  
"Remind me never to lend you my car, 'kay?"   
  
"Why you..."  
  
---  
  
A very unusual sight greeted Ranma's eyes as he stood next to the now partially-demolished doorway of the White Dragon. Steel cables had been roped round the Battloid's torso, and these had been attached to two big trucks, in an attempt to right the downed craft. Inch by inch, it was slowly coming away from the restaurant, the trucks' engines roaring like lions.  
  
Finally, the Battloid reached a precarious balance--a _very_ precarious one. After a moment, though, it started swaying, unstable. The bystanders bolted away, yelling, and the truck drivers left their vehicles behind and ran for cover. For some seconds, the Robotech craft struggled to find its balance, much to no avail. One of its legs became entangled in the still-taut cables, and the Battloid staggered backwards. It crashed against an abandoned building, which collapsed under the titanic weight of the machine.  
  
´Another building destroyed. With pilots like this, who needs enemies?´ Ranma asked himself, smiling at the almost-comical situation. If this single "friendly" aircraft had caused such a mess in the city without even trying to, he shivered at the thought of what a berserk army of these things could do to Macross.  
  
Suddenly, the ground under his feet vibrated slightly, and the breeze brought a low but deep and somehow guttural rumble with it. Ranma whirled, searching with his eyes for anything unusual--which in this island, Ranma realized, was a very easy task.  
  
He wasn't disappointed. In the distance, the SDF-1 was partially hidden by a cloud of dust, and if his eyes didn't cheat him, the ship was tilted to one side.  
  
´What the hell is going on here?´ he wondered. This kept getting weirder and weirder. Maybe someone had fired on the ship?   
  
He was distracted from his musings when he heard several gasps coming from the people in the street. His first guess was that they had also noticed the SDF-1, but when he turned around, he saw that they were all facing upward into the air, and in the opposite direction that the glorious spacecraft. Following their gazes, he discovered a white, black and yellow Veritech approaching them from the ocean.   
  
Everybody rushed out of its path, their previous experiences making people wary. To Ranma's amazement, the onrushing aircraft changed--just like Rick's had minutes ago--into that same metal bird of prey configuration that he remembered seeing before, its wings deployed and legs outstretched as if to land. It deftly settled in the middle of the street, and, without losing a heartbeat, the Robotech craft finished shifting, rapidly becoming a robot, much like the one that rested against the building. The gaping martial artist noticed that it had a white skull and crossbones on a black field painted on the heat shield that now covered the canopy.  
  
For the next few minutes, Ranma ogled, mesmerized, as the Battloid with the skull walked up to the other one and started repairing it. A wide assortment of tools sprang from one of its strong arms, and sparks rained down onto the pavement as Rick's Battloid was repaired.  
  
Finally, Max took him out of his reverie, coming up to him and saying, "They've sent the evacuation order, Ranma. We must go to the shelters."  
  
"Okay, I'll go in a minute. Thanks."  
  
He turned his attention back to the Battloid, and saw how Rick managed to free himself from the rubble, standing up with considerable steadiness. ´The boy is fast learner,´ he thought, gazing at the Battloid's head.  
  
´Well, at least I know why these things were so secret.´ Unbelievable. He would have called it magical, but he, perhaps better than most people, knew that magic was a very different thing. All that magic had ever brought to him had been pain--and curses, of course.  
  
Trying to stop himself from walking down the sorely known path of depression, Ranma walked to the two Battloids and called out, "Hey, boy!"  
  
One of the Robotech machines leaned down over him. "My name is Rick!" blared out a youngish voice through the Battloid's PA system.  
  
"Yeah, whatever. I just came to say goodbye, we're going to the shelters."  
  
"Oh, well... Bye," Rick said, uncertain.  
  
Ranma smirked. "Try not to step on anyone, okay?"  
  
"The only one I might step on," Rick growled, "is you."  
  
"Ha! As if you could catch me," yelled Ranma at the Battloid, but started walking away anyway. If there was something he had learned during his life in Nerima it was that you should never _ever_ push your luck.  
  
Max and Jason were already on their way to the hills, where the nearest shelter had been built years ago. Lena, however, seemed to be waiting for her niece. Glancing over his shoulders, the pig-tailed martial artist discovered Minmei. She was yelling something at Rick's Battloid. ´She must be saying goodbye. He had to have made a good impression, after all. I'll never understand women. A man demolishes her home and she smiles at him.´  
  
Ranma looked at the grassy hills. They weren't far; it couldn't take them more than five minutes to get there. "We should get going," he said to Lena, who was still waiting for Minmei.  
  
Lena nodded. "Yes, you're right." She turned to Minmei and called, "Minmei! Come on!"  
  
He could see the girl jogging to them, and again couldn't help but notice how pretty she was. Grace in each step... Too young for him, yes; but that Rick guy was another matter entirely. ´Ranma: the matchmaker. Wait and see!´ he promised himself.   
  
Minmei finally caught up with them and, together, they started walking towards the hills.  
  
---  
  
Almost the entire population of Macross shuffled impatiently around the large hill that loomed over the entrance to the underground shelter system, waiting for their turn to get in. Among the masses, Ranma waited anxiously. Next to him, Max ranted.  
  
"I mean, so many plans, so many years, the least you'd expect is that they'd be quicker," he said, exasperated. "How much time do they want us to wait here?"  
  
"Well, there's a _lot_ of people..." said Ranma, appeasingly.  
  
"That's beside the point. With all the money they spent in t--" He couldn't finish, as Minmei suddenly gave a yelp.  
  
"My diary! I forgot my diary!" she said, almost shouting.  
  
"What?" asked Ranma, confused. A strong sense of deja vu was invading him.  
  
"I have to go back!"   
  
´Oh, no, girl. Not you too! What's with women and diaries?´ thought Ranma, a little annoyed. If he ever had a daughter, he would be certain she didn't keep a diary. Those things were disasters waiting to happen.  
  
"Wait, child!" Max tried to stop her, but she was too fast for him. Ranma also tried to reach for her, but two civil defense workers stopped him.  
  
"Come back!" cried Lena, worry etched in her face.  
  
"I'll be back in a moment!" shouted Minmei over her shoulder, and with that, she was off, losing herself in the maze of streets.  
  
"What are we going to do?" asked Lena to Max, holding him for reassurance. "It may be dangerous in the city."  
  
"Don't worry, I'll go get her." Ranma shrugged off both men's attempts to stop him and, throwing them to the ground, hurried after Minmei.  
  
---  
  
Vigilant, mechanical eyes witnessed as Ranma ran back into the city, but they paid him no special attention. They had other objectives, and very important ones. So, as they stared intently at the far shape of the SDF-1, they also ignored the crowds of people waiting outside the shelters for entrance. They couldn't afford distractions; the time was near.  
  
The army of Zentraedi Battlepods stood impassively as thousands of energy bolts--fired by the Zentraedi armada from an orbit around the moon--fell down on Macross, devastating the city. None of them touched the SDF-1, but the buildings that surrounded it were obliterated in a fraction of second, helpless before the amazing power of the alien weapons.  
  
Finally, it stopped. Recognizing this as their signal to action, the Battlepods leapt down from the cliffs around the city. Firing their long-range weapons, they began their assault on the spaceship they had tracked down through time and space.  
  
War reigned anew on the Earth.  
  
---  
  
Somewhere in the city of Macross, Ranma fought for his life.  
  
He had been trying to find his way back to the restaurant, looking for Minmei, when those strange war machines had appeared seemingly out of nowhere. They had two legs articulated backwards, and this gave them the appearance of ostriches. Granted, no one could ever confuse those headless, wingless and packed with heavy weapons monstrosities with real ostriches, but the comparison was valid. They had come hopping swiftly, and had immediately showered the whole city in missiles. Luckily, Macross had been evacuated in time, and the streets were almost desert. Except for some Civil Defense workers, Ranma--and Minmei.  
  
So, when one of the those Zentraedi Battlepods had finally noticed Ranma and started firing laser beams at him, he fought. After all, he didn't want to die.  
  
But even as he ducked low to avoid an incoming energy bolt, Ranma was smiling. He felt ecstatic, exhilarated. This is what he had trained his whole life for: fighting. It didn't matter if it was against a robot or a person. It didn't matter if his enemies had rockets and lasers when all he could use was his own body--he had faced worse odds before. All that mattered is that he was still a warrior in his heart, and this was simply the most exciting moment of his life. He was one of the best martial artists of the world--and he showed it.  
  
Around him, chaos continued. Building after building was being destroyed by blasts and missiles, and the air was filled with plaster and concrete dust, which made breathing difficult at times. Debris and shrapnel flew in every direction, some of it sharp as knives, and explosions flared in blazing infernos that, Ranma knew, could reduce him to ashes in mere seconds. Meanwhile, the pig-tailed man was a whirlwind of activity. He jumped, leapt, ran, sidestepped and generally dodged, expertly avoiding being caught by the burning wreckage that rained down from the sky--or by the powerful laser bolts the pod was intent in throwing at him.  
  
Yet, even then, his mind remained completely calm. His thoughts were clear, his mind analytic and continuously assessing the situation. He was the eye of the storm, the center of the cyclone.   
  
The insistent pod finally caught up with him. With a colossal leap, it landed in front of him, feet as big as cars tearing at the concrete as if it were made of butter. He quickly leaped to the top of a nearby building, just as the section of the street where he had been standing was melted into a black, boiling puddle of lava by the alien lasers. Not wasting any time, Ranma jumped down back to the ground right behind the confused Battlepod, and fired a ki-blast at its knee-joint, shattering it.  
  
The alien craft toppled over and fell to the ground with a tremendous crash, unable to get up for the moment. Not looking back, Ranma continued his way, knowing that time was crucial if he wanted to find Minmei.  
  
Help had finally arrived, and in the form of tall robots just like the ones he had seen outside the White Dragon. They kept firing those powerful guns of theirs, destroying pods left and right. They were really agile--much more so than what their size and weight suggested--and seemed to dance around the larger Battlepods, rapidly overcoming them.  
  
Ranma turned corners at random, hoping against hope he would find either the restaurant or Minmei. Suddenly, another pod jumped onto the roof of a tall building to his right, and gazed down, noticing him.  
  
´Time for the big guns,´ he decided wordlessly. Ranma quickly crossed his arms in front of his chest, then snapped them forward and to the side. He didn't even announce the attack. ´No need to show off,´ he thought, as the nearly invisible vacuum blades soared through the air toward the pod. A moment later, a now legless Battlepod lay helplessly atop the building, desperately trying to keep itself from rolling over the edge of the roof.  
  
´That one won't be moving for a while.´ Even as he was thinking this, a Battloid arrived at the place where the alien warcraft lay and finished it off with its Gatling gun. There was no place for mercy in war. Or, at least, that is what the Battloid's pilot thought as he rushed deeper into the city, looking for more enemies. The Zentraedi wouldn't have had it any other way: war was their philosophy; more, their life. And in a war, you fight to win, no matter the price.  
  
Ranma ran.  
  
---  
  
One furious martial artist kicked a pebble, frustrated. Where was she? He still hadn't been able to find her, and he was beginning to fear he was too late. He had seen too many dead bodies in the last fifteen minutes. It seemed all the people who had stayed in the city after the evacuation order had died. Emergency personnel, CD workers, all of them. Why would a teen-aged girl be any different?   
  
A few miles ahead, a pod exploded when a barrage of high-density slugs impacted against its armor, courtesy of a white Battloid. The explosion caused a buiding that had taken heavy damage from the enemy weapons to collapse over the offworld craft. The city was only a poor reminder of what it had once been--a modern and beautiful place to live had become a battered war-zone. All because someone had decided to start a war.   
  
He looked at the distant SDF-1. He was pretty sure now that the invaders were aliens. After all, who else could build--or pilot--machines as big as those damned ostrich-machines? They were twice the size of the Battloids! Besides, who else would attack the one ship that had brought peace to the entire world? Who else _could_?  
  
Another explosion made him look up, and he saw a Guardian descending slowly, apparently trying to land. It had only one arm, and for some reason, Ranma found it familiar. Flying though the smoke, it was heading for a relatively smooth descent, when it abruptly dug its metallic heels into the pavement, obviously trying to lose some momentum. Looking for a reason to this, Ranma looked in the direction of the aircraft's intended path, and discovered a damaged Battlepod giving them its back. The Guardian's foot thrusters flared an intense bright blue, desperately trying to avoid the impending crash, much to no avail. It took the Zentraedi craft from behind, sending both to the ground with a loud thud. Without wasting time, both Robotech machines nimbly got to their feet, but the pod seemed rather unsteady as it eyed its attacker.   
  
It wasn't until that moment that Ranma finally recognized the white and brown Guardian that stood frozen now watching the alien craft: it was Rick's aircraft! ´The boy is alive,´ he thought, relieved. ´Maybe he can help me look for Minmei.´  
  
Then, the Guardian started firing his Gatling, and Ranma had to cover his ears as the the bullets buzzed towards their goal. The pod's armor went off in a minute, and it toppled over to the ground.  
  
´I guess that's all.´ Ranma warily gazed at the alien aircraft. Even as he was thinking this, he heard a metallic sound coming from the pod. He saw as a hatch in the back of the Battlepod opened, and a shadowy figure sprang from inside the machine. It was humanoid, Ranma noticed, and was wearing some kind of armor and a helmet, but that wasn't what made the martial artist open his mouth in disbelief.  
  
"It's huge," he muttered reverently. The alien was easily as tall as a Battloid, and probably had the same weight. Ranma hadn't even had time to assimilate this last piece of information, when the Zentraedi trooper slowly grabbed his helmet and took it off, dropping it to the ground. A completely human-shaped--if gigantic in size-- face greeted Ranma's eyes, and the alien slowly started moving again.  
  
He staggered and swayed tiredly towards Rick's Guardian, clearly wounded but determined. His intention was clear to Ranma; he had seen that same expression many times in the mirror: revenge. If he was going to go, he would take his killer with him. The young boy was going to die, and why? Because he had fought back?! Because he hadn't let himself be KILLED?!  
  
Ranma saw red. "Oh, no. YOU DON'T!" he cried, and rushed towards the alien.  
  
He practically flew towards him, his feet melting the asphalt with each step. A bright white aura emerged from his body, but Ranma didn't notice. All he could think of was the life of that pilot, that boy; all he could see was the alien walking towards the immobile Guardian. And so, while Ranma felt the purest anger course through his body, the aura glowed brighter than ever. Blinding-white energy swirled and cracked around him, making him look like a small, deadly nova; but Ranma continued running, faster and faster. The alien was near now, and he sent all his strength in his hand. In a moment, the aura was re-absorbed in his body, only to be focused in his clenched fist a second later. One punch would be enough, just one.  
  
He pulled his fist back, ready to strike. He was no more than a mile from the alien, seeing with hatred how the behemoth was about to reach the canopy of the Guardian, when he heard a deafening buzz saw sound. The Zentraedi soldier coughed blood, and toppled to the pavement, his hand still near the cockpit, grabbing one of the Guardian's feet. Standing with his weapon still levered at the alien, Ranma could see a Battloid he already knew: the one with the skull insignia he had seen before.  
  
The energy surrounding his fist dissipated, and Ranma stared at the skull-insignia Battloid, his brow glistening with sweat. Hastily, he tried to stop his hands from shaking. For a moment, only for a moment, he had lost control. But a moment was all that it took.  
  
He gazed at the giant corpse. The alien's lifeless eyes were staring at the sky, unfocused. ´So much like a human...´  
  
As he headed towards Rick's Guardian, he looked to the ground, ashamed. He had almost killed, something he had promised himself he would never do again.  
  
But he, better than anyone, knew that there are promises you sometimes can't keep. He had once promised to never let his fiancee die.  
  
---  
  
To be continued...  



	4. Countdown

A couple of you actually asked for it, so here's the next chapter. Enjoy--and send C&C, please!  
  
---  
  
  
DISCLAIMER: Ranma 1/2 belongs to the brilliant Takahashi Rumiko. Robotech is  
owned by Harmony Gold USA, Inc. No copyright infringement is intended.  
  
This story is based on McKinney's books.  
  
___________________________________  
  
SILENT BATTLES  
  
A Ranma 1/2 / Robotech crossover  
  
by Latin_D (latin_d@uol.com.ar)  
  
___________________________________  
  
  
Chapter 4: Countdown  
  
---  
  
Ranma was only a few meters away from the Guardian, and still couldn't see any movement in its cockpit. He glanced at the Zentraedi lying motionless in the middle the street. The alien corpse still clung to the Robotech craft, looking like a shipwrecked sailor grabbing his life preserver. For a few moments, Ranma stared intently at the horrible sight, forcing himself to see what his lack of control might have caused.  
  
The skull-insignia Battloid that had killed the gigantic alien minutes ago started moving again. The pig-tailed martial artist watched, amazed, as it shouldered its massive weapon. There was so much casualness and grace in that single movement that Ranma felt like rubbing his eyes. How could a machine move so fluidly? He wouldn't have believed it if he hadn't seen it with his own eyes.  
  
The Earth craft gently prodded the alien's dead body with one of its metallic feet, checking for any signs of life. It found none, of course. The Veritech Gatling rounds had done their job, piercing the Zentraedi trooper's armored chest with terrifying ease. Then, the Battloid stood still for a couple of minutes, seemingly waiting for something. Ranma decided that making his presence known to the pilot was the best course of action. After all, he might be able to help him look for Minmei. However, before Ranma could do anything to draw the pilot's attention, the war machine quickly switched to Guardian configuration, as if urged by some unknown signal. Like a rocket, it took to the air and headed for the SDF-1.   
  
A deceptive peace settled upon the street after the sleek aircraft left. The battle had apparently moved to the outskirts of the town, as the Veritechs slowly but surely pushed the invading troops back. The sounds of explosions and fighting were still there, but they seemed muffled, deadened somehow. It was only this relative calmness which allowed Ranma to hear the sudden rumble that came from the SDF-1's direction. He whirled around, not knowing what to expect any more.  
  
The SDF-1, the ship that had finally brought peace to the Earth, was slowly raising up into the air after a decade of waiting. Its rocket boosters flared intensely, giving off a torrent of white-blue fire that, foot by foot, propelled the huge spacecraft upwards.   
  
´They're leaving! Now I'll _never_ be able to get inside!´ He sighed. His whole plan was falling to pieces, and there was nothing he could do.  
  
In that moment, another thought struck him. If the SDF-1 went away, the Veritechs would probably follow it. And with the pods still lurking in Macross, it would be very dangerous for Rick to stay here. Ranma might be the best martial artist in the world, but there was no way he could face a dozen of those alien machines. ´Well,´ thought Ranma, ´at least not if I'm taking care of the kid at the same time.´  
  
He hurried to the downed Guardian and, with a single powerful leap, landed gracefully on the fighter's nose. Looking down, he finally saw Rick. He was slumped against the instrument panel, head resting in his arms and unmoving.  
  
"Hey, Rick! We gotta get outta here!" The boy didn't seem to hear him.  
  
"Rick, you okay?!" asked Ranma a little louder. There was no answer. ´What the heck's wrong with him?´ he wondered, somewhat worried. He didn't seem injured, and the canopy was intact, with absolutely no signs of an attack that might have hurt the pilot. He strained his ears in the hope of perceiving something, but to no avail.   
  
"C'mon, kid," said Ranma, trying once more to get Rick's attention. "Snap out of it!" The young pilot was unresponsive, but looked to be breathing properly by the way his nostrils rhythmically flared in and out.  
  
As his gaze roamed around the cockpit, Ranma realized to his surprise that there was someone else in the fighter. A young raven-haired woman was slumped in the rear seat, her head tilted to one side, resting against the canopy. Long locks of hair covered her pale face, making it hard for Ranma to see her features clearly. But, for some strange reason, he found her awfully familiar. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that she seemed to be about the same age than Minmei. Besides, she was wearing very similar clothes. Actually, she had _just_ the same hair and build...  
  
"Oh, no! Minmei!" She wasn't moving, either. Perhaps they had both been knocked unconscious when they crashed into the pod. He needed to check them and see if they were injured, but he didn't know how to open the canopy. Sure, he could shatter it; he wouldn't need more than a simple punch to do so. But then the fighter could be rendered useless, and that was something he could not permit. The Guardian was Rick and Minmei's only means of transport, and losing it might prove fatal. Walking was out of the question--a Battlepod could step on them without even noticing--, and it would be too dangerous to carry both of them through the battleground Macross had become. Especially if one of them was injured.  
  
´Think, Ranma, think! There _has_ to be a better way!´ Some god must have taken pity of him, because Minmei stirred slightly, right on cue, finally coming to her senses. Almost as if by magic, Rick also seemed to wake up, shaking his head lightly in an attempt to clear it.   
  
Thanking whoever it was that looked after him, Ranma sighed in relief. "Hey, guys! Open up!" he called. To say Rick was startled by the sight of Ranma standing on the plane's nose while looking down at him would be an understatement, but he managed to calm himself enough to comply after a few seconds.  
  
"W-w-wha..." Rick cleared his throat, and tried again, "What're you doing here?"  
  
The pig-tailed man couldn't help but grin at the sight of Rick's bewildered face. "I came to see how many buildings you've destroyed since I left for the shelters, but I lost count when I reached a hundred."  
  
"A hundred? I'm surprised you can count past ten without using your toes!" riposted Rick, effectively wiping off the superior smirk from Ranma's face.  
  
At that moment, both men heard laughter coming from the cockpit, and quickly turned around--to see Minmei giggling, completely awake.  
  
"You guys're just _too_ funny," she said, wiping her eyes.  
  
"Er, thanks... I guess," muttered Rick, before facing Ranma once again. "Now tell me, how'd you get here? Macross's packed full with aliens! Heck, even I almost didn't make it--and I'm in a Veritech!"  
  
"I just walked, okay? In fact," he glanced at Minmei, a hint of reproach in his voice, "I came looking for a girl that thought she knew better than her uncle and aunt. You wouldn't happen to know her, by any chance?"  
  
Minmei had the decency to blush at these words. "Sorry," she said, smiling meekly.  
  
"It's not me who you gotta apologize to," Ranma said, shrugging. "Save it for your aunt; she was almost in tears, y'know? Next time, think before acting."  
  
´I can't believe I just said that,´ thought Ranma, marveled at his own maturity. If only Akane could hear him...  
  
He turned back to Rick. "Now, what're you gonna do about this big, bad boy down here?" he asked, pointing to the alien's dead body. "He's got you grabbed by the ankle, and he doesn't look like he's gonna let go any time soon."  
  
"Um, I don't have a clue."  
  
"Tell me something I don't know," muttered Ranma.   
  
Overhearing him, Rick crossed his arms and snorted, "Ha! There're so many things I wouldn't know where to begin."  
  
Ranma narrowed his eyes. "Oh... oh, yeah?" he drawled. A second later, though, he gave a sigh and relaxed. "Aw, shut up and let me think. Or d'you want to stay here forever?" he asked, before turning his gaze back at the dead Goliath with a dismissive wave of his arm. Ranma scratched his chin, gazing at the firmly clasped hand. He thought of cutting it off, but then decided against it--it'd be too messy. Besides, it wouldn't do to have the Veritech flying with an enormous hand firmly attached to it.  
  
"What're you both talking about?" asked Minmei, curious, and started leaning forward.  
  
"No! Don't look!" cried Rick, not wanting her to spot the gigantic corpse.  
  
Reluctantly, Minmei backed down. "Why?"  
  
"Don't worry 'bout it," said Rick hurriedly, "it's nothing. We've gotta get going now. I'll take you back to the shelters."  
  
"Hey, didja already forgot about the alien?" asked Ranma shaking his head in disbelief. "Jeez, you're clueless..."  
  
As Rick prepared himself to start arguing, the ground started vibrating, signaling the arrival of a new machine. Loud sounds of footsteps could be heard, metallic feet impacting on the ground with unthinkable strength. Almost unconsciously, Ranma modified his posture, falling into a relaxed but ready stance. Outlined against the smoke produced by the smoldering buildings, a large shadow could be seen slowly approaching the Guardian. Ranma tensed, wary, but immediately calmed as a gentle breeze swept the smoke away, revealing the now-familiar form of the skull-insignia Battloid.  
  
The Guardian's comm suddenly turned on, and the image of Roy Fokker's face appeared on the instrument panel's screen. "Sorry to interrupt you, Little Brother, but the party's over. If we don't hurry, they'll leave without us. Let's go!" He paused, noticing Ranma. "Who's your friend?"  
  
"He's not my friend!" growled Rick. "He came for Minmei."  
  
Ranma butted in, peeking from the side of the cockpit, "Hey, this is great! I can see him and speak to him at the same time. Hi, I'm Ranma."  
  
"Hello, name's Roy. I'd shake your hand, but it might be dangerous for your health right now, I'm afraid."  
  
"Probably," said Ranma, smirking. "Well, nice to meet ya. I'll be going now; see ya." He turned around, ready to jump down to the street.   
  
"Hey! Where d'you think you're going?" came Roy's amplified voice over his machine's external speakers.  
  
"Uh," hesitated Ranma, confused, "well, as you're taking care of these kids, I thought I should go back to the shelters."  
  
"What? In case you didn't notice, there's a war going on here, my friend. I can't leave you alone; you wouldn't last a second without a great pilot like myself keeping you safe," boasted Roy, the Battloid pointing at itself. "C'mon, get in the Veritech with the children and I'll take you to the shelters later."  
  
"But I--" started Ranma to complain, but Roy didn't let him finish.  
  
"No buts," he said, and there was a hint of seriousness in his voice this time, "I can't let you wander through Macross. It's too dangerous."  
  
"If you insist..." Ranma trailed off, and headed to the cockpit. ´At least this way,´ thought Ranma, ´I'll be able to keep an eye on Minmei.´ "Move over, kid."  
  
"We won't fit!" protested Rick, as Ranma sat down his next to him. Or, at least, tried to. The Veritech's seats hadn't been constructed to accommodate two people at the same time, so Ranma ended up sitting on Rick's lap in a very awkward position.  
  
"Oh, sure you will--you'll just have to be friendly," said Roy, grinning widely beneath his blue-visored flight helmet.  
  
"If you want, I can sit with Minmei..." suggested Ranma, grinning.  
  
"Don't you dare!" yelled Rick, furious. He quickly calmed down, though, when he realized what he had just said. "Err, I mean, uh, we don't want to bother her, right?" He looked nervously towards the rear seat, where Minmei was looking at him with wide eyes. Quickly turning around, Rick tried to keep himself from blushing. "But how am I supposed to pilot with this big, fat old-timer here?" asked Rick, obviously upset.  
  
Ranma snorted, "Pilot? Don't make me laugh. _Try_ to pilot, you must mean."  
  
"Oh, yeah," drawled Rick. "I'll have you know that I won the World Freestyle Flying Competition eight years in a row."  
  
"And how many people were competing? Two?" asked Ranma in the most irritating mock-curious tone he could muster. "Or maybe it was just you? No, no, I get it; it was a model airplane making competition, right?"  
  
Seeing Rick beginning to fume, Roy cut in, "Don't worry, Rick, you won't have to do anything; I've got a better idea."  
  
The Battloid extruded one of its metal tentacles and, much in the same way in that Ranma had seen before when Rick craft had been repaired, used it to open a small panel in the side of the Guardian. Its three passengers suddenly felt themselves shaken around as Roy's machine gently took the cockpit in its metallic hands, separating it from the rest of the aircraft. Using a fitting especially built for the purpose, Roy attached it to the side of his Battloid's right arm.  
  
"Neat, isn't it?" said Roy, pride evident in his voice.  
  
Ranma nodded his agreement, amazed.  
  
"Incredible," muttered Minmei under her breath.  
  
"Yeah, really nice," said Rick. "Now, please, hurry up. It's getting really uncomfortable in here!"  
  
"Oh, don't be such a baby--and stop moving, already!" yelled Ranma.  
  
"Argh! Your elbow is digging in my ribs, idiot!"  
  
"Stay quiet! Hey, keep your hands to yourself, you sick pervert!"  
  
"Will you SHUT U--"  
  
Roy shut down his comm, his ears ringing. How two people could be so loud, he would never understand. Minmei would go deaf soon if those two didn't calm down. He had better get to the SDF-1 as soon as possible, before they killed each other. Or maybe he should wait until after they had killed each other to return. That would certainly save everybody a lot of trouble.  
  
The Battloid mechamorphosed to Guardian mode and rose smoothly to the air on its foot thrusters. The Robotech craft hovered there for a few seconds, as Roy glanced one last time at the war-torn streets of Macross, and then jetted off towards its mother ship.  
  
---  
  
Lisa Hayes frowned as the last fighter docked successfully with the spacecraft. She couldn't keep out of her mind the fact that she had ordered a civilian to fly a Veritech. It was a big mistake, and she knew it. That Veritech shouldn't have ever left the exhibition grounds--and it was her fault.  
  
However, it was also true that that boy ought to have said something. Why didn't he come clean and say he wasn't a pilot? ´Idiot,´ thought Lisa, shaking her head. Well, there was nothing she could do now. She just hoped that Commander Fokker could save the boy--she didn't want to have a death on her conscience. Besides, she planned to have a few words with him.  
  
Lisa sighed, tired. The last thing she needed that day were more surprises.  
  
---  
  
A sleek fighter rose swiftly out of the earth's atmosphere. As the air thinned and the sky blackened, the utmost silence surrounded the small craft. No sounds could be heard but the ones coming from the Veritech, and Roy enjoyed a rare moment of peace as he closed his eyes.   
  
It was easy to forget about the war in times like this. Easy to avoid thinking of the new threat--the same one he had the feeling would put humanity in jeopardy once again. So damn easy to keep out of his mind those terrible words: kill; die; survive. He had learned long before to master his fear, to control his feelings. Otherwise, he couldn't have fought for so long; he wouldn't have been able to see so many of his friends die. But, even now, he sometimes needed to relax and just... forget.  
  
He switched his comm with the dismantled Veritech back on, and the expected argument greeted his ears once again.  
  
"Watch out where you put those skinny legs of yours, lil' flyboy!"  
  
"And you go on a diet, old man! You're so fat that my legs're hurting!"  
  
´Will they ever get tired?´ wondered Roy, finally opening his eyes. He decided to stop the bickering--if that was even possible. He opened up a communication screen to the other ship and said, "Hold on for a second, guys. We're arriving." Seeing them closing their mouths for the first time in long minutes, he radioed, "This is Skull Leader to SDF-1, over."  
  
A new screen popped up in both ships, and they could see the face a woman in it. She appeared to be in her mid-twenties, and had long brown hair coiled at her shoulders. Her small, elegant features made her very attractive in the minds of many men, but a frown twisted her face in that moment. Her gaze slowly roamed around the crowded cockpit, looking in turn at Rick, Ranma and Minmei, who was leaning forward, trying to see the screen. After a few seconds, however, she seemed to recognize Rick, and settled for glaring at him.  
  
"Is this our mysterious pilot?" she asked, not really expecting an answer.  
  
"The one and only," answered Roy, grinning.  
  
Lisa scowled, "Well, I ought to congratulate you, Mr. Hunter. You almost did more damage than any of the invaders."  
  
Rick was in no mood for taking any more insults, so, purposely rising his voice slightly, he asked, "Who's this old sourpuss, Roy?"  
  
The woman recoiled at hearing this, as if someone had punched her square in the face. It wasn't long, though, before her features contorted in barely-contained rage.   
  
Rick had touched a nerve, Roy noticed, and couldn't help but laugh aloud. "That," said Roy, a smirk plastered on his face, "is Lisa Hayes, the ship's First Officer. And I wouldn't call her old, Little Brother. Women are like good wines: the more mature, the better; you should know that already."  
  
Ranma decided that was the right moment to get in the conversation, and commented to Rick, "He's right, you know; she's not that old! I mean, I'm probably older." Lisa started to relax, but only for an instant, as Ranma continued talking.  
  
"But she does look like a sourpuss, I'll give you that," he concluded, not really knowing what he was saying and unaware of the danger he was in.  
  
Lisa couldn't take it any more, and snapped, "Argh, that does it! What is your name, you smart-mouthed idiot?!" she yelled at a confused Ranma, shaking with anger.  
  
If there was something Ranma had learned throughout the years, it was to recognize the instant a woman was truly and dangerously angry, and this was one of those moments. Of course, he had never learned what to do to appease that anger, but no one is perfect.  
  
Another lesson Ranma had learned was that first impressions were most important; so if he wanted to ever be able to enter the SDF-1, he had better stay in good terms with its First Officer--whatever that was. Thus, Ranma hastened to answer in the most friendly tone he could manage, "Ranma Saotome, Ma'am." He offered her a winsome smile, but it had no effects in the young woman. ´Damn, that's supposed to melt her like fire to ice,´ thought Ranma, disappointed.  
  
"Listen to me, y--"  
  
"RANMA!"  
  
---  
  
Henry Gloval was a troubled man.   
  
After knowing of Armor Two's grim destiny, he was convinced of the fact that the Super Dimensional Fortress One was the only one that could face the offworld enemy. Unfortunately, that didn't make his actual situation any less gloomy. He was going to fight a probably unequal battle against an enemy of unknown resources, with an untried ship and an inexperienced crew. Bad odds, indeed.  
  
Besides, as the captain of the SDF-1, it was his duty and his responsibility to face this new threat. He knew that if something went wrong, he would be the one to blame. That was a lot of pressure, even for a seasoned captain like him.  
  
So, in order to stay calm and rational, he focused in the tasks at hand: Macross' inhabitants were already safe, and by sending the evacuation order in time, a carnage had been avoided. The next step was to counterattack, as ridiculous as that might sound when faced with the number of ships of the enemy fleet.  
  
But, even through this ordeal, Gloval couldn't help but think of a more personal business. He had been supposed to meet and old acquaintance that day. He was the son of one of his best and oldest friends, and though he hadn't seen him for the longest of times, there had been a time when he had been like a son to him. He could still remember that cute, innocent face; those beautiful blue eyes, that kept going this way and that for hours, seemingly wanting to look at the whole world at the same time; that ever-present cheerful smile, or the little ponytail that fluttered about as the little rugrat ran free around his legs. Those had been the times...  
  
Unnoticed by his bridge crew, a nostalgic smile crept to his face as Gloval indulged himself with a moment of remembrance. His eyes gazed at one of the situation monitors, but his mind was miles and years away. He had made the arrangements for him to be allowed inside the ship during the celebrations. For some reason, the boy hadn't shown up, and nobody seemed to know his whereabouts. ´I should've known this could be a dangerous day,´ Gloval silently berated himself. He just prayed for Ranma to be safely waiting in the shelters. If something happened to him, he would never forgive himself...   
  
Besides, Nodoka would kill him. Literally.  
  
Something distracted him from his musings, and he looked up to see what was going on. Apparently, there was some kind of discussion going on in the bridge. He paid attention, and was able to hear a voice he had never heard before--a male voice. For some reason, though, it seemed awfully familiar. He just couldn't put his finger on it, but he was certain he was missing something really obvious. In fact, he could swear that he had just heard the owner of the voice saying his name was Ran--  
  
"RANMA!" he yelled at the top of his lungs, shocked. Glova jumped out of his chair and rushed to Lisa's board, where two different screens were displayed. One of them showed Commander Fokker's familiar face, trademarked nonchalant look included. Of course, Gloval knew appearances could be deceptive, especially in Roy's case. He had known the young fellow for more than a decade now; actually, Roy had been one of the few survivors of the group that had explored the SDF-1 when it had first crashed. He couldn't be considered his friend, not at all--but he knew perfectly that flying wasn't a game in the blond youth's mind. Sometimes, he knew, you had to build a facade in order to keep the horrors of war at bay.  
  
The other screen was cramped with three startled faces. Two belonged to teenagers: a boy and a girl. A mop of dark hair covered the boy's forehead, and he was staring at him with his big brown eyes. In his opinion, the kid was in desperate need of a comb--he would never understand this obsession young men had with messy hairdos. It seemed all his pilots wore long hairstyles, regardless of their rank. Hell, he was certain they would mutiny if he ever forced them to visit the barber's.  
  
The girl was entirely another matter. She had jet black hair, and such a charming face he wished for a moment to be a couple of decades younger. Whoever this beautiful girl chose would be a happy man, that was for sure.  
  
The third face's owner was a man. Gloval didn't doubt for a second that he was Ranma. His face was sterner, having lost its baby fat long ago, and a pig-tail had replaced the pony tail; but there was no confusing those blue orbs that stared right back at him, perplexed and questioning.  
  
"Yes," answered the man uncertainly. Yet, a glimmer of recognition showed in his gaze then, and he continued hesitatingly, "Uncle Henry...?"  
  
He was right, it was Ranma. ´Thank God, he's fine.´ Gloval sighed, relieved. But a second later, he winced as he recalled what Ranma had called him. He could already see the members of the bridge bunnies covering their mouths with their hands, trying to stifle sudden fits of giggles. Only Lisa seemed serious, although she was looking at him with wide, incredulous eyes.   
  
´Why'd he have to remember _that_?´ he thought, cursing inwardly. Years ago, Ranma had given him that nickname. He hadn't said a thing at the time, of course--but, in his opinion, it was silly and embarrassing. Gloval looked around, and the women that formed his crew hastened to put straight faces. He could still see the mirth in their eyes, though.   
  
Drat! He would never live that down.  
  
"Yes, Ranma, it's me," he said, smiling warmly. As an afterthought, he added, "Captain Gloval," putting special emphasis in the "Captain". Maybe he would get the hint...  
  
"Great to see ya, Uncle Henry! I thought I'd never find you!"  
  
Okay, maybe not.  
  
"Do you know him, sir?" asked Lisa in a strange tone.  
  
"Yes, of course, Lisa. Why do you ask?"  
  
"No special reason, sir."  
  
Switching his attention back to his "nephew", Gloval said, "Come to the ship, Ranma. You can tell me later what happened to you." Ranma nodded, and Gloval turned to Roy, "Bring Ranma here safely, Commander." There was no time to take Ranma to the shelters back in Macross. Besides, if the enemy was as dangerous as he thought, then Ranma would as safe in the SDF-1 as anywhere else.  
  
"Done, sir." Roy looked at Lisa and said, grinning all the time, "You heard Uncle Henry, Lisa! Give us a bay number, over."  
  
More giggles could be heard, as Lisa responded, "Roger. Bring your plane into bay zero-niner."  
  
Roy nodded. "Thanks--you old sourpuss," he said, and signed off, the screen going black.  
  
Gloval saw how Lisa clenched her fists, as her eyes narrowed. He made a mental note to get Roy spaced, and proceeded to think of ways to overcome the current crisis.  
  
---  
  
As Roy drove them along the famous starship's interior, Ranma arched his neck back, trying to get a glimpse of the distant ceiling. He couldn't.  
  
"I'll drop you off near the Captain's quarters. Stay there. The Captain will probably have to stay at the bridge for a while, but I'll let him know you're waiting for him, 'kay?" said Roy, accelerating. The engine roared, and the green and brown troop vehicle raced into yet another empty compartment.  
  
"Sure, no problem."   
  
They traveled for a few more minutes, constantly entering new holds of titanic dimensions. Rick and Minmei, both sitting in the rear seat, remained quiet, mesmerized by the sheer vastness of the ship. What could they use so much space for?  
  
With no warning, Roy jammed on his brakes, and the vehicle abruptly skidded to a halt. Rick and Minmei gave a yelp of surprise, thrown off balance. Ranma, though, remained impassive, apparently unaffected by the inertia. Being a top-class martial artist had its advantages; he had long ago learned to bend _some_ of the laws of Physics.  
  
However, his sensible ears were hurt by the squealing of the brakes, and Ranma couldn't help but wince at the high-pitched sound. ´Oh, well, ya can't win 'em all,´ he thought, rubbing his sore ears. Rick sent Roy a hateful look, but didn't say anything as he helped Minmei back on the seat.  
  
"This is your stop, my good friend. That hatch over there leads to Gloval's chambers, but I'd wait outside if I were you--the Old Man likes his privacy," said Roy, and Ranma hopped off, taking his backpack from the back seat.  
  
"Bye, all," said Ranma as Roy started the engine once again.  
  
"Bye, Ranma." Minmei smiled and waved as the car sped away.  
  
"See you later!" yelled Roy, not looking back. Rick just grumbled something, teeth locked.  
  
Ranma waited patiently for some time, a pleased smile in his lips. In his mind, the same mantra was repeated over and over again: ´My Uncle's the captain! My Uncle's the captain!´  
  
He couldn't believe his luck; Uncle Henry was the captain--the captain, dear gods, the CAPTAIN--of the SDF-1. If he played his cards correctly, he would be able to stay in the ship for as long as he wanted, do his business and leave with his conscience clean.  
  
While he stood brooding on the strange twists of fate, the ship's PA system blared out, "All hands to emergency stations. All hands, emergency stations. This is not a drill; I repeat: this is not a drill. Prepare for fold operation in T minus five minutes and counting. Mark!"   
  
At first, Ranma didn't know what to do of this unexpected announcement. Whatever a fold was, it sounded important--maybe even dangerous. Perhaps it would be better if he looked for his Uncle. As the officer in charge, he, more than anyone else, had to know what was occurring, right?  
  
´Um, where would this 'bridge' place be?´ asked Ranma to himself. He didn't know anything about spaceships--or about ships in general, for that matter. The only bridges he knew were the ones built over a river...  
  
´Let's try the Ryoga approach,´ he decided, and started walking in a random direction. He wandered along the cold halls for some minutes, his footsteps resounding soundly in the metallic floors. Apparently, that area of the ship was deserted, and so Ranma wasn't able to find anyone who could help him.  
  
The SDF-1's internal speakers went on again, and a female voice reverberated throughout the whole spacecraft: "Attention, all hands. Fold in T minus two minutes and counting."  
  
´I'm running out of time! What'm I gonna do now?´ He ran a hand through his hair and looked upwards, frustrated. There, hanging on the steel-blue wall, a sign read in big, bold letters: "BRIDGE"; a red arrow pointed towards his right. Ranma blinked twice, and then blinked one last time; the sign remained in its exact same place, so he concluded that it actually was real. Turning right, Ranma resumed walking, shaking his head in disbelief.  
  
One day, he would find out why these things always happened to him.  
  
---  
  
As Gloval stood unmoving next to his seat, the bridge gang struggled to keep the doubts they had about the usage of the fold system out of their faces. It was an untested device, one of the most complex of those found in the ship. Gloval's decision to take the SDF-1 down over Macross Island was also risky, and he mutely prayed not to be making a mistake.  
  
A thousand things could go wrong, and all of them--Gloval included--knew this. So they waited silently, the tense atmosphere killing any possible idle dialogue. Just then the hatch opened with a hiss, and a smiling young man entered quickly.  
  
"Wow, I thought I wou--" started Ranma, but was promptly stopped short by a fuming Lisa.  
  
"What're _you_ doing here?! This is no place for civilians!" snarled Lisa.  
  
Ranma crossed his arms. "Hey! I came to visit my uncle; d'ya have a problem with that?!"  
  
"Yes! You better leave this place immediately or--"  
  
Gloval broke in, barking, "No time for that, Lisa! You too, Ranma!" Both Ranma and Lisa looked at their feet, ashamed. "Be quiet, or leave!"  
  
"Sorry, Uncle Henry," said Ranma meekly.  
  
"But sir, he can't stay here. It's against the regulations for a civilian to stay in the bridge," Lisa reminded Gloval, glaring hatefully at Ranma.  
  
Gloval took in a deep breath. "I know what the regs say, Lisa, but there's no time to take Ranma back to the quarters. He'll have to stay here until this crisis is over."  
  
"But--"  
  
"That will be all, Lisa!" Gloval cut in, firmly.  
  
"Yes, sir," said Lisa with a straight face.  
  
"Serves her right," muttered Ranma under his breath. Gloval glared at him, and Ranma decided that being quiet was the most intelligent thing to do. Seeing this, Gloval turned around and calmly headed to his seat.  
  
The seconds slowly ticked away as everyone waited in complete silence once again. After what looked like a year, Claudia, the SDF-1's brown-haired Bridge Officer, began the countdown: "We will enter fold in ten seconds... nine..."  
  
"I hate you," said Lisa quietly, looking at Ranma from the corner of her eye.   
  
"...eight..."  
  
Ranma snorted, "Oh, yeah? Well, I'm not too fond of you, either."  
  
"...seven..."  
  
"Hmph!"  
  
"...six... five..."  
  
"Hey, Lisa."  
  
"...four..."  
  
"Lisa!" hissed Ranma.  
  
"...three..."  
  
"What?!"  
  
"...two..."  
  
"I just wanted to know... What's a fold?"  
  
"...one..."  
  
Lisa allowed a small smirk to reach her lips. "You'll find out soon enough, won't you?"  
  
"...ZERO!"  
  
---  
  
A globe of energy surrounded the SDF-1, so bright that hundreds of sailors--witnessing the event from the supercarriers Prometheus and Daeladus--were blinded by it and forced to close their eyes. With the same intensity as a hundred supernovas, the globe expanded, soon enveloping the whole island of Macross. The city, the harbor, the shelters; all of them were swallowed by the white energy and lost in an ocean of light.  
  
Then, without warning, the incandescent sphere disappeared. For a second, everything seemed to stop, as the elements waited frozen around the sudden vacuum. It didn't last long, though, and water and air wrathfully rushed in, filling the gap produced by the SDF-1's departure in mere moments. Soon, no traces of Macross were left.  
  
In a small pond, in a valley somewhere between one of the largest Chinese mountain ranges, a bright mote of white-blue light shone for a second, and then was gone.  
  
And in a secluded village, not far from there, an old, wizened woman halted in mid-step and looked at the black clouds that were slowly gathering in the sky. ´Bad omen,´ she thought, and strode off to her hut.  
  
And in a dojo, a beautiful young woman stopped sweeping the floor as a chill ran through her body.  
  
And in a forest somewhere in the south of Japan, a traveler put away the map he had been holding and, pulling back his worn-out hood, gazed seriously towards the ocean. Or, at least, towards where he thought the ocean was.  
  
The SDF-1 had left the Earth. And it had taken Ranma with it.  
  
---  
  
To be continued...  



	5. Dark Beauty

Send comments and visit my page; that's all I ask! :)  
  
Enjoy!  
  
---  
  
  
DISCLAIMER: Ranma 1/2 belongs to the brilliant Takahashi Rumiko. Robotech is  
owned by Harmony Gold USA, Inc. No copyright infringement is intended.  
  
This story is based on McKinney's books.  
  
___________________________________  
  
SILENT BATTLES  
  
A Ranma 1/2 / Robotech crossover  
  
by Latin_D (latin_d@uol.com.ar)  
  
___________________________________  
  
  
Chapter 5: Dark beauty  
  
---  
  
For eons upon eons, Pluto had traveled its unstable orbit around the Sun in a never-ending voyage of solitude. Captured by the yellow star's gravity, forced to wait for eternity a freedom that would never come, the lonely planet navigated the black void, undisturbed by anything or anyone.  
  
That is, until the Super Dimensional Fortress One and the island of Macross suddenly appeared in its proximity, still encapsulated in a force field of swirling white energy. Pluto's only satellite, Charon, was promptly bathed in blinding light, the likes of which had never been seen so far from the young sun.  
  
The sphere of light then disappeared, exposing its contents to the harshness of deep space. But even as the Protoculture-powered force field flickered out of existence, unknown side effects caused by the failed spacefold continued acting over the transplanted environment. In an instant, the absolute zero temperature froze the chunk of seawater the starship had brought along, and the air soon followed the same fate. Translucent flakes of frozen air commenced falling over the ruins of Macross city, soon covering the scars of the recent battle in a thick mantle of inscrutable whiteness.  
  
For a moment, the SDF-1 hung in its position, a silent witness to the chaotic events. Then slowly, reluctantly, it began dropping towards the ruined city, a victim of the pseudo-gravity imposed on the island by those same secondary effects.  
  
---  
  
Ranma heard Claudia finish the countdown, and then Gloval ordered his tense crew to begin the "hyperspace fold-jump," as the old captain called it.  
  
At that moment, his vision seemed to cloud over. It became impossible to focus, and the world around him acquired a sense of double exposure that disturbed Ranma. In a vain attempt to clear his vision, he squeezed his eyes shut tightly and shook his head. When he opened his eyes again, Ranma discovered to his surprise that the colors of the bridge had apparently changed, and everything was suddenly outlined in different hues of red, orange and yellow.  
  
Before he had the chance to ponder on the possible causes of this new phenomenon, the bridge returned back to normal. There had been something very familiar about the side effects of the spacefold operation, but he couldn't quite put his finger on exactly what.  
  
´This can't be good,´ thought Ranma as the lights went out. In no time, though, the emergency lights began casting an eerie, uniform red light over the people present in the room. For some reason, this didn't help to calm him.  
  
Gloval gave a few orders, and soon the lightning was normal again. ´Something is wrong, I just know it.´ Ranma slowly backed to a corner. Ranma knew he wasn't supposed to be there, and he felt like he was intruding where he wasn't wanted. So he kept his mouth closed, and silently witnessed the events unfolding in the nerve center of the ship.  
  
"There's something on the radar, Captain," said Vanessa, one of the three young female techs that comprised the bridge crew in addition to Lisa and Claudia. "Something _very_ large."  
  
"It must be the moon; that was the target of the fold," calmly reasoned Gloval.  
  
"No, it's too small, sir. I'll put it on the screen." Vanessa keyed in a few orders in her terminal, and the main screen soon showed an astonishing sight.  
  
´Macross Island?´ Ranma wondered, not wanting to believe what he was seeing. There was no doubting the images provided by the external camera, though. All the details and landmarks were there, all of them covered in a thick coat of something that looked like snow: the battle-torn city, the aircraft supercarriers--both of them held in place by the now-frozen sea waters next to the harbor--, the hills where the underground shelters had been built...   
  
´The shelters!´ Ranma suddenly remembered that Jason, Max and Lena were in there with the rest of the Macross population. ´Please, let 'em be all right!´ he mutely prayed.  
  
Vanessa gasped before yelling, "It's Macross Island, Captain! And it's coming straight toward us!"  
  
Gloval hurried to her side and gave the readouts a quick glance. "No, _we_ are going towards it!" Turning to his Bridge Officer, he ordered, "Fire the retro rockets, Claudia!"  
  
Claudia quickly typed on her keyboard, sweat glistening on her brow. "It isn't working, sir! The computer's dead!"  
  
"Emergency! Emergency!" said Lisa over the PA system, trying to keep her voice steady and only partially succeeding. "Collision alert! Prepare for impact!"  
  
The SDF-1 collided with the frozen island with devastating force, punching through the last standing buildings that had miraculously survived the preceding disasters. On the bridge, everyone was thrown from their feet, except for Ranma, who somehow managed to keep his balance. He noticed through the commotion that one of the women had tripped and was falling backwards, about to crash into one of the situation consoles. Almost without thinking, he leapt towards her, catching the woman before she could hit the hard surface with her head.   
  
´That was a close one,´ thought Ranma, holding the lean woman in his arms. "You okay, miss?" he asked, gazing at her face for the first time. ´Oh, no.´  
  
Lisa was looking at him through narrowed eyes, a deep frown in her face. "Let go of me," she ordered in the coldest tone he had ever heard. "Now."   
  
He would have never acknowledged it, but the ire visible in those big brown eyes scared him. Thus, he released her a little too quickly, and Lisa, surprised and unable to react, fell to the floor on her bottom.  
  
Lisa's face reddened with anger as she tightly clenched her tiny fists. Slowly, she stood up, letting out a growl and beginning to walk towards Ranma. The pig-tailed martial artist retreated, warily eyeing the fuming Lisa, but stopped when he realized that there was no place to run.  
  
Before things could escalate further, though, Kim, another of the techs that formed the bridge crew, cut in, "The radar shows enemy mecha on the island, sir! They're attacking!"  
  
"Lisa! Order Skull Squadron to engage the enemy!" ordered Gloval. "We need them there immediately!"  
  
"Yes, sir," said Lisa through locked teeth. Shooting Ranma one last hateful glare, she hurried to her duty station. Ranma sighed, relieved. Following her with his eyes, he noticed with detachment that she was gently rubbing the sore spot with one of her hands, only to quickly tear his gaze away when he realized exactly _what_ he was staring at.  
  
A faint blush coloring now his face, Ranma heard Lisa relaying Gloval's command and couldn't help but wonder what Rick and Minmei were doing in that moment. Not much, probably.  
  
At least, he was sure they couldn't be a having a time worse than his.  
  
---  
  
´What the heck're we gonna do now?´ That was the question that had plagued Rick's mind for the last half an hour.  
  
Mockingbird, the one-seat racer of his design that he had built with his own hands, was hanging upside down from a wide assortment of cables and lines, only a yard or two above the deck. Once, it had been white as the snow, with a red stripe along its side that had only served to make it look all the more beautiful in his eyes. Now, however, most of the paint had peeled off, and a big part of the fuselage had been damaged during their chaotic reentry into the SDF-1.  
  
With hindsight, trying to take Minmei back to Macross hadn't been the wisest idea. But how on earth he was going to know that the SDF-1 was about to execute a fold operation--whatever that was.  
  
Giving the wrecked plane one last look full of regret, Rick decided to go look for Minmei and see what she was doing. That was one of the few good points of that whole ordeal: he got to spend some time alone with the beautiful Chinese girl.   
  
If only he weren't lost in an alien starship...  
  
---  
  
"PLUTO?" Ranma's shout was echoed by those of everyone else present in the bridge, with the sole exception of Vanessa, the one who had informed them of their serious situation.   
  
The last Battlepods remaining in the island had been dispatched quickly. Most of them had thrown themselves blindly into a kamikaze attack against the SDF-1, where its primary and secondary batteries, Destroids, Spartans, Gladiators and other Civil Defense mecha--early products of Robotechnology, incapable of flying but with lots of firepower to compensate--had made short work of them. The rest of the round-bodied war machines had been shot down one by one by the squadrons of Veritechs in an intense but short-lived dogfight, bringing peace to the ship for the moment.  
  
It was then that Gloval asked the question everybody feared to answer: what was the SDF-1's current position? Only having that piece of information they could know how far the Earth was, and how long the trip home would be. The answer had been worse than anyone's grimmest expectations.  
  
"Impossible!" cried Kim, shocked.  
  
Claudia only shook her head. "I knew this wasn't a good idea."  
  
"Pluto," whispered Sammie, the last--and the youngest--of the members of the bridge gang, with a tremble.  
  
Ranma's eyes were wide as he thought of the implications this unexpected turn of events could have. "Surely, she can't mean Pluto, right?" he asked, turning to Lisa. "As in 'the planet Pluto'?"  
  
"Yes." Lisa's tone was still vexed.  
  
"Pluto?" asked Ranma one more time. "As in the farthest planet from the Sun?"  
  
"YES!" she snapped.  
  
Taken aback by her outburst, Ranma started to back down once again, returning to his secluded corner. "Okay, okay. Jeez, what's with her, anyway?" he grumbled under his breath. "How come I always gotta deal with tomboys?"  
  
Gloval rose from his chair. "Now, now. Calm down, everybody; there's no need to panic. All we have to do is fold back to Earth and we'll be where we began."  
  
This appeared to bring order back to the bridge--for a moment, at least. It was in that exact instant that the hot line rang. Gloval let out a deep growl before picking the red handset. "Gloval here. WHAT? Wait there; I'll be with you right away." He put the handset down before turning to Claudia. "Show Ranma to the visitor's quarters, Claudia." And with that, he headed for the hatch.  
  
Ranma was the first one to react. "Uncle Henry," he said, not noticing how Gloval flinched upon hearing this. "What happened? Anything wrong?"  
  
"Doctor Lang informs me that the fold system has disappeared." The hatch closed behind the old Russian captain.  
  
Everyone stood rooted, stunned by the obvious implications the loss of the fold drives possessed. Ranma was the only one oblivious to all this, but he was able to recognize that something serious had happened, if only by looking at the scared, tear-streaked faces of some of the women present.  
  
He turned to Claudia, who was standing at his right. She was staring into space, seemingly lost in thought. Fighting down the growing dread he was feeling, he asked, "What's a 'fold system'?"  
  
"It's the device that allows as to do position jumps through space--just like the one we just did," Claudia answered in a dead voice, as if she weren't really answering him but instead talking to herself.  
  
"That means..." he trailed off, unwilling to voice his own, terrible conclusions.  
  
She looked at him for the first time, and Ranma could see the worry etched in her big brown eyes. "Yes, it means that we're stranded here."  
  
Ranma gasped as the gravity of the situation finally sank in. How were they going to return? Was returning even possible? Would he ever see his friends, his family again? He couldn't brood on this matter for long, though, as Claudia's melodious voice distracted him from his musings.  
  
"C'mon, I'll take you to your quarters."  
  
"Huh? Oh, yes. Nice to meet you, girls," he said to the trio of techs, who had returned to their stations looking for something to do that could take their minds away from the harsh reality.  
  
"See you, hunk!" Sammie called out just as he was exiting the bridge, and all three of the techs erupted in much-needed giggles that seemed to sweep away the tense atmosphere in a moment. Lisa, however, just whirled around, ignoring him, arms folded across her chest. Seeing her reaction, Claudia let a knowing smirk reach her lips. ´This should prove interesting.´  
  
The hatch snapped shut, and they were left alone in the deserted hall.  
  
"Where to?"  
  
"This way. Follow me."  
  
They walked quietly for a few minutes, both deep in thought. Claudia was a couple of steps ahead of Ranma, leading the pig-tailed man through the complicated maze of gigantic holds and compartments that formed the ship's interior. They made a quite peculiar couple: he, with broad shoulders that denoted a lifetime of martial arts, and blue eyes partially covered by a thick mop of black hair; she, with delicate features and dark skin, and close, coffee-colored curls that gave her a rather exotic beauty.  
  
Unexpectedly, Claudia broke the silence. "She's not that bad, y'know."  
  
"Huh?" asked Ranma intelligently, caught off guard by the cryptic remark.  
  
"Lisa," she clarified. "She's not that bad--once you get to know her."  
  
Ranma didn't seem convinced. "Maybe..."  
  
"So," continued Claudia, obviously looking for topic of conversation, "what do you do?"  
  
"Me? I'm a martial artist," he said matter-of-factly.  
  
"Really?" Claudia looked sincerely interested. She was an accomplished hand-to-hand fighter, but she usually had a hard time finding sparring partners. Not many soldiers liked to fight their superior officers, and even when she ordered them to spar with her, they stood like punching dummies, not willing to strike her once. And her boyfriend, Roy, who was supposed to be a good martial artist, acted in the same, idiotic fashion. His excuse was different, though. "I could never hurt such a beautiful face," the jerk would say every time she asked him to spar. "What art do you practice?"  
  
"Anything-Goes."  
  
"Um, never heard of it," admitted Claudia. "Are you good at it?"  
  
A cocky grin crept to Ranma's face upon hearing the question. "I'm the best."  
  
"Do tell. Well, I know a couple of moves myself. Perhaps we could spar someday?"  
  
The grin quickly disappeared, only to be replaced by a doubtful expression. "Er, I dunno..."  
  
Claudia's brows came together. "Why? What's the matter?"  
  
"It's just that I don't like hittin' girls," Ranma nervously explained. "Besides, I'm not sure you'd be much of a challenge, y'know?"  
  
"Oh, is that so?" drawled Claudia, dangerously narrowing her eyes. "Well, don't worry. We don't have to spar if you're afraid or something."  
  
Ranma drew back, almost as if she had thrown ice water in his face. "Me? Afraid? Ha! I could beat you blind-folded!" he boasted, covering his eyes with one of his hands to illustrate his point.  
  
"Great, then," said Claudia, trying to keep the smirk out of her face--and failing. "I'll call you when things calm down a little bit and we'll set the day."  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"Well, that's the one," she said, pointing with one of her slender fingers to a hatch at the end of the corridor. "I gotta get going."  
  
"But--"  
  
"Bye!" yelled Claudia over her back as she ran away.  
  
"Wait!" called out Ranma, but it was too late; she was already disappearing in one of the wide halls, slim legs moving with incredible grace.  
  
´What just happened?´ wondered Ranma, still staring in the direction she had gone. If he hadn't known better, he would have thought that she had tricked him--but that wasn't possible. Nobody _ever_ tricked Ranma Saotome. Well, nobody but Nabiki. And Cologne. And...  
  
Not giving it any more thought, he headed for the hatch. It opened with a soft whir of machinery, revealing a vast room behind. It didn't have much in the way of furniture: there was a bunk at one of the corners, a wooden closet, and a small refrigerator. The walls were mostly bare, too; only a man-sized world map adorned them. As was to be expected, the map had been recently updated: no borders were shown on it, only one omnipresent country extended over the whole world and ruled by the United Earth Government. Looking at the floor, Ranma noticed what he supposed was the Robotech Defense Force logo painted on it: a kite-like emblem centered in a silver shield. What attracted his attention, though, was the large rectangular viewport hidden by a pair of white curtains. ´What would they need curtains for in space?´  
  
The room, Ranma decided, had the distinctive mark of the military on it: not luxurious, but practical. Of course, he wasn't about to complain. Living in the road for more than a decade had taught him that anything was better than sleeping on the ground.  
  
Setting his backpack on the bunk, Ranma threw back the curtains--and immediately caught his breath.  
  
Pluto--dark, solitary, mysterious Pluto--greeted him, showing itself before him in all its eternal glory. Forever immersed in shadows as the old planet was, Ranma could only guess its cold, rocky surface, or the tenuous atmosphere that poorly concealed it. Next to Pluto, patiently waited Charon, its faithful satellite, completely covered in an ocean of water ice. And crowning it all, thousands of millions of stars alighted the space beneath them, and above them, and all around and beyond, like shining diamonds on a black velvet backdrop.  
  
One word found his way up to the gaping Ranma's brain: ´Amazing.´  
  
---  
  
Breetai Tul, commander of the Zentraedi fleet sent to retrieve the missing Dimensional Fortress, was angry. More than angry, he was furious, enraged.   
  
How it was that Zor's ship had escaped, he didn't--couldn't--understand. How had he permitted that offense? That the Zentraedi, the mightiest race of warriors in the universe, had been fooled so; it was almost unbearable. He, who had defeated the vicious Invid in mortal combat so many times, who was second only to the supreme commander, Dolza, had been bested by mere primitives. Right when he thought the Dimensional Fortress would finally be his, when there seemed to be no way out for the weaklings, they had somehow executed a spacefold operation right over the surface of their puny planet--which was supposed to be impossible!  
  
The mountainous alien rose from his chair and began to impatiently walk in circles, occasionally peering at the projecbeam astrogational charts floating in midair in the middle of the large room, as if he could find his foe's current location in them.  
  
Tall even by Zentraedi standards, Breetai had been wounded terribly during a battle against the Invid, the most dangerous enemy of his race. Because of those injuries, the right half of his scalp and almost half his face had been covered by an alloy skullplate, and the eye had been replaced by a gleaming crystal; all permanent reminders of the price of failure. He clenched his fists so tight that the huge knuckles creaked audibly, trembling with his anger.  
  
The primitives had escaped, yes. But Exedore, his most trusted advisor, together with a team of techs, was looking for them, searching the universe for any evidence, any sign of the ship that held the secrets of Protoculture.  
  
They had found it once, and they would find it again. And this time, there would be no mistakes.  
  
---  
  
"Amazing," breathed Ranma as his gaze roamed around the new Macross City. The broad streets, the newly-painted buildings; everything was perfect, as if he had been somehow transported through time and space, and were back in Macross Island, walking slowly towards the SDF-1. Ranma looked up and admired for a moment the powerful lighting system set up to imitate solar illumination. It wasn't perfect, but it was a beginning. In fact, Ranma had heard that EVE (Enhanced Video Emulation) engineers were about to start experimenting with more realistic sky effects.  
  
"Rome wasn't built in a day; Macross City was!" had proclaimed Mayor Tommy Luan, and he hadn't been far from the truth. Salvaged wreckage had been reprocessed in Robotech fabrication machines, and transformed into usable materials needed for the titanic construction. Blueprints and plans had been drawn using the powerful computers aboard the SDF-1, and holds had been emptied to make room for the city. Generally speaking, almost all of the ship's vast resources had been put at the refugees' disposal. "Robotechnology at the service of humanity," as many had called it.   
  
But machines hadn't done it all. Almost every single one of the seventy thousand civilian survivors had worked long and hard laying the foundations of this new Macross, sometimes even twenty-four hours a day. Ranma had helped, of course, and his exceptional strength had come handy on many an occasion.  
  
The real surprise had come, however, when Uncle Max had told Mayor Tommy Luan that Ranma was a martial artist. Max had later told him that it had just been an idle comment, but Ranma had his suspicions. The mayor had immediately gotten excited for some reason, and had rambled for what had seemed like hours on how his city lacked a martial arts sensei of quality and skill, and on how pleased he would be if Ranma decided to teach now that he lived in Macross. Then, he had remembered that--oh, happy coincidence--there was a vacant lot next to the spot reserved for Max and Lena's restaurant. Although he couldn't prove it, Ranma was pretty sure the couple was also behind all this.  
  
So they had built a dojo.  
  
At first, he hadn't accepted it. How was he supposed to pay for it? And he hadn't wanted it to be a gift, either. The mayor had explained to him that everything was free during the rebuilding: the military provided the materials, and the people put the work. What was he going to pay for? However, Ranma had insisted. If he had just taken it, it would have felt too much like he was taking advantage of their hospitality, too much like something his father would do...  
  
Finally, one phone call to Uncle Henry later, he had accepted. It was decided that he would pay by working for free instructing members of the Military Police and officers of the RDF. Considering the sheer number of military personnel in the ship, Ranma concluded he was going to be really busy in the future.  
  
"My own dojo," he muttered quietly, almost trying to convince himself that this wasn't a dream--nor a vision. He turned around and gazed at the polished floors, at the wooden walls, and decided that, after all, he was lucky.  
  
He had never admitted it, but he had been looking forward to teaching in the Tendo dojo. When Akane had died, though, that dream--and many others--had simply lost their importance, becoming utterly meaningless. He had been forced to lock them away in some remote place of his mind, hoping that, some day, he would be brave enough to open that little Pandora's Box. Brave enough to see its contents and once again be able to confront all the painful memories without crying for hours on end.  
  
Well, maybe, just maybe, he was ready now.  
  
The Tendo dojo... After that terrible day on Phoenix Mountain, Ranma had returned to Nerima only once. Gathering enough courage to face Soun, Kasumi and Nabiki was one of the most difficult tasks he ever did. But, somehow, his voice had been steady and his eyes free of tears while he had looked at them in the eye and told them Akane had died.  
  
Afterwards, he had tried to forget and go on with his life, as so many of his friends had advised him. But every single place in Nerima brought Akane back. If he hadn't done something, anything, he would have gone crazy. So he had made a decision. One night, while everyone was sleeping, he had left the house, carrying nothing but his old leather backpack and without so much as a backward glance.  
  
He had lost a home--his first and only home--that night.  
  
But now, working shoulder to shoulder with the people of Macross, building the city anew as a team, he felt... good, happy, useful. He had made more friends in the last two weeks than during the two years he had spent in Nerima. Everyone treated him kindly and respectfully, and seemed to appreciate his help. Besides, he felt like he had found a surrogate family in Max, Lena and Jason.   
  
Yep, life was looking good for the youngest Saotome.   
  
He even had his first student.  
  
"Hey, Ranma!" Jason came running out of the newly reconstructed White Dragon's front gate, a little energetic whirlwind. "I'm ready!"  
  
Soon, they were both facing each other in the middle of the shining dojo.  
  
"Okay," started Ranma, hands clasped behind his back, "today I'll be teachin' ya one of the most important moves of the Anything Goes style. It was originally invented by my father, Genma Saotome, but I've used it on many occasions, too. Listen carefully, because this is really important. _Especially_ if you're fighting against someone who is much better than you. It's the feared," he said, pausing for effect, "Saotome Secret Technique!"  
  
---  
  
Gloval stared at the empty space where the spacefold engines used to be--before they vanished into thin air. Actually, "empty" wouldn't be the most appropriate term to use, as in the place of the enormous drives, lights could be seen. Like thousands of restless fireflies, glowing specks darted at bewildering velocities through the air, forming intricate patterns in a surreal ballet of light and fire. "Residual energy of some kind," Lang had called them. To Gloval, they were another sign of how wrong his decision of performing the fold had been.  
  
He had thought thing couldn't get any worse... He should have known better: bad news always comes in threes. And the second piece of bad news had already presented itself.  
  
"So, you see, Captain," Doctor Emil Lang was saying, "firing the main gun is, at the moment, impossible."  
  
Slight of build and of average height, Lang's most distinctive feature was his eyes: pupilless, irisless, all black eyes that seemed to look in every direction at the same time--and then beyond.   
  
Lang, one of the most brilliant minds in the history of humankind, had been with the RDF since the very beginning. He had been one of the few survivors of the first mission into the SDF-1, and the person responsible for its rebuilding--the wizard of Robotechnology par excellence. And it had been during that mission, only hours after its crash, that Lang's eyes had changed, after he had attempted to link with that mysterious force that animated the ship.   
  
"The disappearance of the fold system," continued Lang, "separated the primary reflex furnace, the ship's power plant, from the gun itself, rendering it useless."  
  
"Is there any way we can shoot it, Doctor Lang?" asked Gloval hopefully.  
  
"I see only one solution. The SDF-1's construction isn't very different from the Veritech fighter's construction: they are both modular." Lang gestured to a series of illustrations and diagrams he had prepared to help explain the process. "This way, to make something overly complicated simple, there shouldn't be a problem to reconfigure the battle fortress, altering both its internal and external structure and uniting once again the main gun with its power source." He made a pause, letting the words sink in. "Besides, I'm sure you remember that the ship has transformed in the past..."  
  
"During the first mission to the ship!"  
  
"Exactly."  
  
Gloval weighed his options, staring at the diagrams. The transformation would cause Macross City considerable damages, possibly destroying the whole city. Who knew how many lives could be lost if he ever attempted it? He shuddered at the thought of another catastrophe like the one caused by the fold. But... what would happen if they were attacked again?   
  
Damn! Why was everything always so difficult? And he didn't even know what bad news number three was going to be...  
  
---  
  
"Go take a bath, Jason," said Ranma blithely. "You stink!"  
  
"Okay!" Jason happily ran towards the restaurant at full speed, forcefully throwing the door open before entering.  
  
´Great kid,´ thought Ranma as he heard the door slamming shut, ´but he could use some Valium.´ Ranma had learned throughout the last weeks that Jason was practically always cheerful--that appeared to be his natural state. Not even Minmei's disappearance had dampened his good mood for long...  
  
Slowly walking out of the dojo, Ranma headed for the crowded street. Hundreds of workers could still be seen in Macross at all hours, giving the city the final touches, placing signs, lamp posts everywhere.   
  
Of course, Jason's parents hadn't told him the whole truth--all they had said was that Minmei was lost somewhere, and that it would take a while for her to return. Ranma sighed, wishing he could be reassured just as easily. Too many days had passed, and he knew that the chances that Minmei and Rick were alive were slim. Ranma stood in the sidewalk in silence, thinking about the last time he had seen the beautiful teenaged girl, sitting in that troop vehicle with Rick by her side. She had seemed so happy, as if she hadn't a care in the world.  
  
´War's such a horrible thing.´ Turning around, Ranma started walking back to the dojo. Between the sidewalk and the dojo there was a small garden--very small, indeed, as soil was hard to come by in Macross--that Ranma had insisted on having. He even planned on building a pond, just like the Tendos'. Of course, there weren't any plants yet, not even grass, but he knew that would change in time. The seeds were planted--all they needed was water, and that's what the sprinkler system Ranma had installed was there for. In fact, now that he thought about it, if he had set the timer right, it should be about to turn on. He had better get out of the garden before--  
  
Ranma stood in the wet earth, drenched from head to toes. "Aw, just _great_!" she grumbled, before running the rest of the way up to the dojo. Just the thing she needed, and after she had stayed male for so long--almost a personal record.  
  
"Excuse me, young lady," came suddenly a voice from the restaurant's direction. "Do I know you?"  
  
Ranma whirled around, and she found Lena standing next to her home's front gate, looking at her with a curious expression. "Eh, I'm..." stuttered a panicked Ranma, only to say the first thing that came to her mind, "Ranko! Yeah, that's me: good ol' Ranko." Nervous laughter escaped Ranma's lips as she unsuccessfully tried to look innocent.  
  
Lena smiled knowingly. "You wouldn't happen to know Ranma, by any chance?"  
  
"Uh? Ah, yes, I'm a friend of his," assured Ranma, nodding vigorously. "Definitely."  
  
"A friend? Then, why're you using his clothes?" asked Lena, his voice carrying a condescending tone now. "Did he lend them to you?"  
  
"I... Uh, er..." babbled Ranma, all the time rubbing the back of her head with one of her hands.  
  
Deciding she had made the girl suffer long enough, Lena walked up to her and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "No need to explain, Ranko. I was young once, y'know," said the tall woman, winking conspiratorially. "Besides, any friend of Ranma's is a friend of mine. I'm Lena, Ranma lives with us. C'mon, let's go inside. I want to know _everything_ about you!"  
  
As Ranma was dragged by a very enthusiastic Lena towards the White Dragon, she couldn't help but ask, one more time, ´Why me?´  
  
---  
  
"Micronians!" yelled Breetai, surprise and disgust clear in his thunderous voice.  
  
Studying a trans-vid record of the battle along with Exedore, he had seen for the first time the aliens, his enemies, close enough to discern their height. There was no doubt: he was facing micronized humanoids--or "Micronians," as the Zentraedi called them.  
  
The trans-vid record, recovered from a scout pod lucky enough to escape destruction at the hands of the powerful alien mecha, continued unabated by the giant warrior's outburst. The projecbeam images showed Macross City from the Battlepod's unique viewpoint, travelling at high speeds over the wrecked streets.  
  
"Exactly, sir," Exedore said. "But I believe there's something else you should see, Your Excellence." Then suddenly the scout pod seemed to finally stop, and Breetai watched, to his uttermost amazement, how one of the Micronians shot a beam of white energy at a pod, shattering its knee-joint in a second.  
  
Breetai leapt to his feet. "What was THAT?" he bellowed in his rumbling, echoing bass, his single eye wide.  
  
His loyal counselor was quick to answer. "It seems to be some sort of energy, sir. We have amplified the image a thousand times, and I can all but affirm that he isn't holding any recognizable weapon. In fact, I believe the energy comes from within him."  
  
"But how is this even possible? Is it an android?" In their long history, the Zentraedi had encountered numerous sentient races dispersed throughout the galaxy. Many of them had possessed advanced robots that resembled members of their species; they had all only been stupid machines, though, incapable of free thinking. Nothing the warrior race's powerful armada hadn't been able to defeat in mere seconds.  
  
"If you look closely enough," began Exedore, assuming the monotone he used when he was trying to explain something to the one of the arrogant giants, "you will notice the Micronian's chest is regularly rising and falling, as if he were breathing. In my opinion, such function would be completely superfluous for a lifeless automaton, and thus be left out of the design. This is but a presumption on my part, I admit, but it's based on past observation.  
  
"Either way, there's other information you should consider, sir. I have recently conducted a research on the origins of the Micronians in our most ancient records, Commander, and I'm afraid I have found a warning, in them.  
  
"It forbids us to have any unnecessary contact with Micronian species, and threatens disaster if we do not heed it. Some passages even imply the existence of a secret Micronian weapon, capable of destroying our entire race," finished Exedore, looking Breetai in the eye with his own big, protruding orbs.  
  
Breetai pursed his lips in thought. "And you believe that this power the Micronian wields may be that 'secret weapon', am I right?"  
  
Exedore respectfully inclined his misshapen head. "That _would_ be a logical conclusion, sir."  
  
"But why didn't they use those powers during our first encounter?" asked Breetai, rubbing his jaw with one of his massive hands. "Our victory was almost absurdly easy. And again, many micronians died in the battle held in the proximity of the ship. Why didn't they fire those blasts against the Battlepods?" The gigantic commander shook his head. "There are too many things about these Micronians that puzzle me."  
  
Once again, Exedore came to the aid of his superior. "This is only an hypothesis, sir, but perhaps not every Micronian on Earth can perform those attacks, or maybe we simply surprised them, and this rendered them unable of responding to our attacks appropriately. Other possibility is that they haven't yet learned to use their power when piloting their crafts, but they need these for fighting in space.  
  
"In view of the evidence, it's my counsel that we must under no circumstances attack the Earth. We have located the battle fortress; I believe it's only wise to make its recovery our priority, this way avoiding this way any possible retaliation from the planet's inhabitants."  
  
Breetai considered Exedore for a moment. Frail-looking and small, his advisor was almost a dwarf when compared to himself--or to any other Zentraedi, for that matter. His great, deformed skull and bulging, lidless eyes made Exedore an eerie sight indeed.  
  
But that was only his physical aspect, the outer shell, nothing else. Behind those pinpoint pupils, lived the greatest Zentraedi mind, reservoir of all the lore and tradition of his people. He was the oldest member of his race, and by far the wisest; and Breetai knew this. To go against Exedore's advice was a risk, one he wasn't willing to take.  
  
"Very well. Perform the fold immediately."  
  
Exedore bowed one more time. "Yes, m'lord."  
  
´No matter how many secret weapons they posses,´ Breetai thought wrathfully, ´Zor's ship WILL be mine!´  
  
---  
  
To be continued...  



	6. Offers, Choices, Destinies

Chapter 7 will be out soon!  
  
---  
  
  
DISCLAIMER: Ranma 1/2 belongs to the brilliant Takahashi Rumiko. Robotech is owned by Harmony Gold USA, Inc. No copyright infringement is intended.  
  
This story is based on McKinney's books.  
  
___________________________________  
  
SILENT BATTLES  
  
A Ranma 1/2 / Robotech crossover  
  
by Latin_D (latin_d@uol.com.ar)  
  
___________________________________  
  
  
Chapter 6: Offers, Choices, Destinies  
  
---  
  
Thrusters ignited, and the SDF-1 trembled with the boundless power of its colossal reflex engines. The blue-white novas of its drives lit the lonely Pluto a final time, and so the starship began the long trip back home. Left behind was the corpse of Macross Island, a new and mysterious satellite of the ancient planet. In the chunk of frozen seawater that still adhered to the fragment of earth, however, the supercarriers Daedalus and Prometheus were missing. After being made airtight and operational once again, both carriers had been linked to the battle fortress in record time, and were now integral parts of it.  
  
The huge vessel lost itself in the distance, its Protoculture power plant unknowingly leaving a clear trail in the vacuum of space that made pinpointing its current position an easy task for the Zentraedi's long range scanners. Much like a limping animal making a hasty retreat while licking its wounds, the dimensional fortress headed for the Earth, gathering its strength and sharpening its claws.  
  
It would need them soon, for predators were coming.  
  
---  
  
Ranma Saotome was not particularly given to fear. Actually, her only phobia involved cats, and she only suffered it because of one unfortunate episode. For years she had been convinced there was nothing on Earth that could scare her; neither dangerous animals (cats did not count in her mind), nor dragons and other supernatural beings, nor even homicidal demons could faze her in the slightest. Nothing could scare Ranma--until she started living with the Tendos. It was then that Ranma had encountered one of the true horrors of life: an enthusiastic woman.  
  
Be it her fiancees, or later her mother Nodoka, women had always caused her all sorts of problems. The worst came with her curse. Since that fateful day in Jusenkyo, Ranma had been put in countless awkward situations by it, and though she had learned to live with them, that didn't make the curse any less bothersome. She would never forget the times when Nodoka had tried to teach "Ranko" to be more ladylike... So, when Aunt Lena virtually _pushed_ Ranma into the White Dragon after catching her in her accursed female form, she couldn't help but reflect on how similar her current situation was, no matter the years that had passed by.  
  
Besides, there was something about Lena that reminded Ranma of her mother. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that Lena and Nodoka were both tall women, or with that air of nobility that surrounded them. Both had the same gentle but firm demeanor, too. Thus, Ranma could hardly refuse to talk to the elder woman, and running away was out of the question, so she decided the only option left was endure it and try not to screw up.  
  
Ranma just was thankful Lena didn't carry a katana around. Those things were simply too dangerous.  
  
"So, Ranko," Lena rambled on, apparently not noticing the young woman's increasing discomfort, "how did you meet Ranma?" They were seated at one of the restaurant's tables, and the older woman was serving Ranma a cup of tea.  
  
'I really should already have answers for this kind of question,' Ranma thought, silently berating herself. "Uh, well," she lamely started, brainstorming for a believable story, "I guess you could say we first met in China..."  
  
"In China?" Lena repeated, surprised. "And what was he doing there, if I may know?"  
  
"Well," Ranma said, more confident now, "he was on a trip with his pop, training. That's how he got as good as he is, y'know."  
  
"Yes, the life of a martial artist isn't an easy one, I know that," Lena said quietly, and then added to herself so softly that Ranma almost missed it, "Oh, Kyle..."  
  
'Who's this Kyle?' silently wondered Ranma, and decided she would find out later. "Anyway, I lived in a small village that he visited in one of his trips, and we became friends." 'Hey, I'm good at this!' she thought, happy with herself.  
  
"Oh, how romantic!" Lena practically swooned, her hands at the sides of her face. "Every good, lasting couple starts being friends, right? And tell me, where're you living now?"  
  
The red-haired girl was ready this time. "I've got some relatives in Macross, and I'm staying with 'em. I spend a lot of time in the dojo, though, so don't be surprised if you find me there." It was better to cover her tracks, she reasoned, as what had happened that day could easily happen again.  
  
"Anything to stay close to your boyfriend, I see. Well, you're always welcome here, so don't hesitate to drop by, okay?" Lena's tone was hopeful, and Ranma immediately knew the reason for this. With Minmei lost, and Max busy helping with the rebuilding, all Lena had left was Jason. However, the child had lately spent more and more of his free time with Ranma, studying the Art. The young martial artist felt a bit guilty because of this, and decided she would try to take a bit of that loneliness away.  
  
"Um, sure, but I really oughta get going now. I'm really tired, and I still gotta go get my ration at the Refugees' Center..." It was common those days for the civilian refugees to spend hours on end standing on line, waiting to get the frugal rations of food that the army distributed. The biggest problem was that the ship hadn't been prepared for supporting the entire population of Macross, and while the food supply saved from the shelters was considerable, Gloval had wisely decided that a careful handling of the resources was in order.  
  
"Oh, but you _have_ to stay a little longer." Ranma's surrogate aunt seemed very disappointed. "There's so much I want to ask you. I'm very fond of Ranma, you know, and I want to learn more about him. He's just so... reserved! By the way, Ranko, is he as healthy as he seems?" Lena asked, winking mischievously.  
  
"Healthy?" Ranma repeated, nonplused. Lena just stared at her, and soon realization dawned on Ranma, closely followed by panic. She stood up from her chair and promptly began to make warding gestures, all the time denying having ever done anything like that.  
  
Lena giggled upon seeing her reaction. "You needn't get so flustered, my dear. It was just a joke!"  
  
Ranma blushed, but was saved from further embarrassment when the restaurant's front doors swept apart. A woman appeared in the doorway, and Ranma recognized her instantly: Loretta, Mayor Tommy Luan's wife. "Lena," she exclaimed, obviously agitated, "come quickly! Minmei's been found!"  
  
"What?!" yelled Lena, echoing Ranma's thoughts.  
  
"Yes, she was in one of those unexplored holds, right below the city," Loretta hurriedly explained. "Let's go; it's very near!"  
  
Lena turned to Ranma. "Stay here; I'll be back in a moment!" She practically ran out the door, for once forgetting to act demurely.  
  
When the front gate was safely closed, Ranma rushed towards the kitchen, where she knew she could find hot water. She also wanted to meet Minmei, but becoming male first sounded like a good idea. In a matter of seconds she had located a faucet, and once again Ranma marveled at the efficiency of the building crews. In less than a week, the whole city had been provided of running water. It _had_ to be some kind of record.   
  
She kept her head under the hot water, and after a moment she could feel the familiar tingle of the change taking effect. It was about then that he heard the front door being forcefully thrown open one more time. Ranma jerked his head back in surprise, forgetting, unfortunately, about the faucet.  
  
"Ouch!"  
  
Clutching the back of his head in pain, he hurried out of the kitchen into the main room. There he was able to see Uncle Max and Mayor Tommy Luan entering the restaurant--and dragging the unconscious form of the infamous Rick Hunter with them, he noted with relief. Each of the older men had one of Rick's arms draped over their shoulders, and were managing to carry the youngster, albeit with some trouble. Actually, Max didn't seem tired, but the mayor looked ready to drop dead.  
  
"Hey, Ranma!" Tommy Luan gasped as he wiped his brow with a handkerchief. "You can't imagine how happy I am to see you! Come and help this old man, will you?"  
  
"Of course," replied Ranma, and walked up to them. He briefly considered both men, noticing for the first time how similar they truly were. Both were built like a barrel, with broad shoulders and prominent stomachs; both were good-natured people, always ready to lend you a hand. In fact, he found it hard to believe that Luan was the mayor of the town. In the weeks he had known him, the man had never worn a tie--hardly the common, sweet-talking, black-suited politician he was used to. "Here, let me do it," he told Max, who immediately let go of Rick. Scooping the young pilot up in his arms, Ranma set off towards the stairs.  
  
"Put him in the spare bedroom," Max called out. "He'll be staying here for a while, it seems."  
  
"Sure," Ranma said, not turning around, "no problem." Only when he reached the first floor did he realize the real meaning of this new turn of events: there was only one spare bedroom in the White Dragon, and it was the one he was currently occupying, so that meant... Oh, crap.  
  
This was going to be messy.  
  
---  
  
Lisa took a sip of her black coffee, relaxing as the hot liquid warmed her fatigued body. She was holding the cup with both hands, shoulders resting on the table, trying to stay awake but not quite succeeding. Large doses of caffeine had permitted her to endure the crisis, but enough was enough. She mutely decided to get some rest before returning to the bridge; there was no point in ruining her health needlessly.  
  
The officers' wardroom was tranquil despite the crowd currently dining in it; further proof of the deep effect the last weeks had had on the starship's crew. She was grateful for the silence, though; it helped her regain her strength and obtain some focus. She sipped the last drops of coffee, and closed her eyes for an instant.  
  
"KIAAAAAAH!"  
  
Lisa started, spitting the fluid in her mouth before recovering some semblance of control over her composure. She turned her head, and saw Sammie, the young blonde tech that formed part of the bridge crew, essaying a high kick before the attentive gazes of her inseparable companions, Vanessa and Kim. They were gathered on the far end of the room, unaware of the numerous hostile glares directed at them.  
  
'Trust Sammie to stay perky at all times,' Lisa thought, not without some resentment, as she made her way toward the trio.  
  
"See?" Sammie was saying when Lisa finally arrived at the table. "You gotta extend your leg more, Kim, like this," she explained, performing the kick one more time. "Otherwise, you'll never keep your balance."  
  
"What're you girls doing?" Lisa asked, sitting into a chair across from her subordinates. "Why did you shout like that, anyway? You almost gave me a heart attack, Sammie," she added accusingly.  
  
"Oh, hi, Lisa," Sammie said, blushing slightly. "Sorry about that. I was just showing the girls here something I learned in my last martial arts lesson."  
  
Lisa appeared genuinely surprised. "I never thought you were into that kind of thing, Sammie."  
  
"I wasn't," Sammie admitted, "until one of hottest hunks on the ship became a sensei." She giggled.  
  
"Huh? What're you talking about?"  
  
It was Sammie's turn to look perplexed. "Don't tell me you didn't know. Haven't you heard Ranma is giving lessons for free?"  
  
"You know how she is, Sammie," Vanessa cut in. "Of course she didn't."  
  
Catching the thinly veiled reference to her devotion for work, Lisa found herself getting angry. She had been many times before criticized for her fixation with duty, but hearing it from the mouth of one of her few friends was far worse. "Why should I care about what that jerk does, anyway?" Lisa said hotly. "And he's not that handsome."  
  
"If you say so, Lisa." Vanessa smirked mischievously, and Lisa silently counted to ten.  
  
Sammie suddenly clasped her hands together, her face brightening. "I know! Why don't you come with us, Lisa?!"  
  
Lisa was taken off guard. "What d'you mean?"  
  
"We've got another class next week," Sammie clarified. "You can come with us. Maybe you could even make peace with Ranma!"  
  
"Oh, no." Lisa's eyes narrowed as she recalled her last encounter with the pig-tailed martial artist. "I'm not going waste another minute in the presence of that man!"  
  
"C'mon, Lisa. It'll be fun!" Kim threw in, excited herself with the idea.  
  
Lisa crossed her arms, dead serious. "No, never. Not in this life."  
  
"Pleeease?" Sammie whined, her eyes moistening.  
  
"I..." A single tear escaped from Sammie's left eye, and the argument was over. "Oh, okay, okay!" Lisa thundered, throwing her arms to the sky in surrender.  
  
"Great!" Sammie beamed, jumping up and down. "I heard the White Dragon was reopened today--such a wonderful idea! We could all go and have lunch there after classes, just like when we were at Macross Island! Oh, I just can't wait..."  
  
Sammie's words became slurred as Lisa felt the beginnings of a headache racking her brain. 'I _know_ I'll regret this,' she thought dejectedly. If she was lucky, her friends would forget about it and leave her alone. A moment later, she considered the possibilities of that actually happening, and almost laughed at her own naivety.  
  
---  
  
As the darkness closed in on them from all directions, Rick stared at Minmei's glistening eyes, at her tear-stained cheeks and her pleading lips. He heard her sweet voice as she asked him to kiss her, and, after a moment of confusion and slightly self-conscious, he slowly leaned forward. His knees shook, suddenly weak, but he managed to control them with effort.  
  
Their mouths met, and Rick shut his eyes, focusing his whole being in the intense sensations. He felt the coarse texture of her lips, the inviting warmth that urged him to be bolder, more daring. Mustering his courage, he pressed his own mouth more forcefully against hers, and sensed the way her fingers parted slightly as...  
  
FINGERS?!  
  
Rick's eyes snapped open, and he couldn't help wincing at the blinding light that assaulted them. Jerking his head back, he noticed the pressure against his mouth leaving, and caught a glimpse of a hand quickly moving away. Even as he began to discern the vague form of a man standing over him, a familiar voice addressed him.  
  
"Y'know," Ranma told him tauntingly, "I realize that you missed me, of course, but this is too much."  
  
"ARGH!" Rick sat on his bed, rubbing his sleepy eyes furiously. "What the hell are _you_ doing here?!" he hissed between clenched teeth.  
  
"Hey, hey," Ranma said, his hands raised in a conciliatory gesture, "calm down now. You're in _my_ room."  
  
"What?!"  
  
"Yes," Ranma affirmed, nodding. "While you're were in La-La Land, the Lynns decided to take you in as a guest, and seeing that they were doing the same for me..." He opened his arms wide, as if ready to hug Rick. "Greet your new roomie!"  
  
Rick groaned. "You gotta be kidding me. Tell me you're kidding, please!" he begged, a note of desperation in his voice.  
  
"Nope." Ranma shrugged. "Hey, don't blame _me_; it wasn't my idea, y'know."  
  
Rick cursed inwardly as his sleep-deprived mind grasped the fact that he was stuck with Ranma for the time being--at least until he found a place of his own. He wondered what exactly he had done to deserve this.  
  
"Besides," Ranma added, grinning widely, "it's not my fault if you keep talking in your sleep about Minmei and then try to kiss--"  
  
Rick's face reddened, part from anger and part from embarrassment. "Shut up! I wasn't dreaming about her!"  
  
"You weren't? Then you really meant to kiss _me_?" Ranma asked in mock surprise. Seeing Rick fuming, he went on, "Anyway, I just came to tell ya we'll be having lunch in an hour or so, after the morning rush ends."  
  
"Morning rush?"  
  
"Oh, right," Ranma exclaimed, slapping his forehead, "you were sleeping. Well, in short, the White Dragon was reopened yesterday, and half the people in Macross thought it was a neat idea, so..."  
  
"Wow." An instant later, Rick's brow furrowed. "Wait, wait. 'Yesterday'? Exactly how long was I asleep?"  
  
Ranma reached up, scratching his chin absently. "Day and a half, I think. You looked so tired, Lena decided to let you rest."  
  
Rick's eyes shot open.  
  
Ranma made a dismissing gesture. "Anyway, I ran the bath for you, to help you wake up."  
  
Rick regarded the pig-tailed man standing opposite him, distrust plain in his face. "What's this all about?"  
  
The grin resurfaced on Ranma's face. "Think of it as a peace offering of sorts, eh, buddy?"  
  
"Buddy?" Rick repeated, clearly unbelieving. "NOW I'm worried."  
  
Ranma rolled his eyes. "Jeez, somebody ever told you that you're really paranoid?"  
  
"Okay," Rick finally conceded, "I'm going, all right. I need something to wake me up, anyway." He stood up from his bed, grabbed a clean change of clothes and calmly headed for the door. Before leaving, though, he directed one last glance over his shoulder at Ranma. "I bet you enjoyed having me kiss your hand, you sick old pervert," he taunted. "Do me a favor. Try not to take a peek while I'm bathing."  
  
Ranma stood silently on the empty room, waiting. Soon, he heard the distinctive sounds coming from the bathroom of Rick entering and beginning to undress. Time for part two of his plan. He laughed quietly, congratulating himself on his cleverness. Who would have thought living with Genma and Soun for so many years would serve for something?  
  
Prowling out of the bedroom and down the stairs, he found Minmei, who was tied up waitressing more than ten tables at the same time--and somehow managing to look fresh and chirpy throughout it all. It had come as a surprise to Ranma when the White Dragon had been reopened, but he admitted now it was a sound idea. The refugees needed to get back to life as usual, as they would only be able to forget about their dire situation if kept busy. Back in business for only a day, the restaurant already buzzed with activity, and had become the pilots and military personnel's favorite hangout.  
  
On the contrary, the fact that opening the White Dragon had been Minmei's idea hadn't been nearly as shocking. The Chinese girl had a gift for cheering people up, for helping them. Currently, she was wearing a silken white and blue Chinese dress, and had fixed her raven hair into two large buns. Her dark eyes glowed with happiness as she rushed from table to table, distributing menus and taking orders while carrying steaming dishes from the kitchen to the lucky patrons.  
  
Noticing a momentary halt on the vertiginous rhythm, and Minmei resting quietly against the counter, he hastened to get her attention. "Minmei!" he called, waving.  
  
Minmei saw him, and slowly made her way across the crowded restaurant, stopping at the tables a number of times to ask the customers if there was something they needed. The funny thing was, Ranma thought, that Lena had confided to him that Minmei usually was a terrible waitress, unable to keep focused on the task for long. "Flighty" was the word she had used. 'She must really want things to work out,' Ranma concluded.  
  
Minmei finally made it to the stairs. "Is there something you need, Ranma?"  
  
"Actually," Ranma began, turning on his most persuasive smile, "I think you're the one that needs something: a break. You've been working non-stop for hours! C'mon, I prepared the bath for you, so go upstairs, have a bath--I think it'd do wonders to relax you--and get some rest. It's an order."  
  
"But the restaurant--"  
  
"I'll be the new waiter, don't worry. I already have some practice, so it should be a piece of cake."  
  
"Well, I guess it's okay then." She gazed at him dubiously. "You really think you can handle it? It's packed here today!"  
  
"Hey, I'm Ranma Saotome," he declared solemnly, striking a pose. "I can handle anything!"  
  
"Mm-hmm." Minmei had long before learnt that the best way to deal with Ranma's ego was ignoring him whenever he said one of these things. "Thanks, Ranma."  
  
"You're welcome. Now go!" Ranma watched her go up to her room, and heaved a sigh in anticipation of what was about to happen: the start of a wonderful relationship. The first step of any good relationship was a rendezvous in the bathroom. After all, hadn't it worked for Akane and him?  
  
Seeing new customers entering and sitting on the only free table left, he quickly brought them some glasses of ice water and a menu. The last thing he heard from upstairs was a yell and loud slap.  
  
Yes, everything was going according to the plan.  
  
---  
  
Gloval lit his faithful briar, feeling its cold, polished wood against his lips. He puffed it several times, tasting the sweet scent as it run through his body. The familiar strong aroma of his favorite tobacco reached his nostrils, and he could literally feel as it calmed his fatigued mind. Laying back on his armchair, he looked out the large viewport that dominated his cabin at the multitude of stars. The previous weeks had undoubtedly been the most taxing ones of his whole life. However accustomed he might have been to the strains of leadership, being responsible for the lives of thousands of civilians while eluding a seemingly all-powerful enemy had been almost too much.  
  
And there was family to think about, too.  
  
Throughout the entire crisis, Ranma had been a constant worry for him. Though he hadn't seen the youth for ages, and had in fact only talked to him a couple of times since Ranma's arrival, he knew his type only too well. His many years in the army had taught him many things, and war itself had often been the harsher teacher. Young men, starved for excitement and adventures, would pass before his eyes, and fight recklessly and bravely--to their deaths.  
All of them energetic, brave men; all of them with the same fire in their eyes. Ranma had that fire.  
  
A fellow captain had once told him that adrenaline could become addictive, and he agreed. Nodoka had related him of Ranma's exciting life, of his enemies and duels. It wouldn't surprise him if Ranma decided to join the Robotech Defense Force, and that was something he couldn't allow to happen.   
  
Not as a soldier, at least.  
  
He exhaled, and rivulets of smoke rose through the air. Gazing at them, he decided to do his best in order to keep Ranma safe. He owed Nodoka that much.  
  
A soft rapping was heard, and Gloval immediately removed the pipe from his mouth and called, "Come in." The hatch slid open swiftly and Ranma stepped into the room.  
  
"Heya, Uncle Henry," Ranma greeted as he approached the desk. "How's it going?"  
  
"I'm well, Ranma. Thanks for asking. Please," Gloval said, motioning to the chair opposite his, "have a seat. How's life in the ship? We haven't been able to have a decent conversation since you came to the SDF-1."  
  
"Great!" Ranma enthused. "The dojo is full of students; I've got my hands full. Did you know the White Dragon was reopened, Uncle Henry? You have to come one of these days; Max is a genius at the kitchen!"  
  
"I'm sure he is, Ranma, but I don't think I'll have the time." He put his briar aside. "Ranma," he began, looking at him in the eye, "I called you here to discuss a matter of great importance. I want you to pay attention."  
  
Ranma nodded, picking up the grave tone on Gloval's voice.  
  
"You mother had told me you were a magnificent martial artist, but, according to some subordinates of mine who form part of your classes, you're even more." He grinned. "You're pretty popular among the officers, did you know?" He added to himself, 'Especially the female ones.'  
  
The martial artist looked at the floor sheepishly, his hand reaching up to the back of his head. He wasn't used to receiving compliments from other people, especially close ones or relatives. Not that Gloval hadn't spoken the truth, though.  
  
"In fact," Gloval continued, "I've heard that more than half your students are members of the RDF. Is this correct?"  
  
"Yes..." Ranma answered warily.  
  
Gloval took a deep breath. "Then I have a proposal for you: join us, Ranma."  
  
"What?!"   
  
"Yes, I want you to become an instructor," he explained, "a martial arts instructor for our troops. It wouldn't be much different from what you're doing right now. The only changes would be that you'd use military facilities instead of your dojo, and that you'll have many more students. This would be a full time job, Ranma."  
  
"But why?" Ranma asked, flabbergasted. "Why me?"  
  
'Because,' Gloval thought, 'this job will probably keep you busy and occupied. Because you'll feel useful, and thus hopefully won't try to intervene in the war more actively. Because I prefer you to be an instructor than a soldier. Because, if you enter the army, I'll be your superior officer, and you'll have to obey me.' Instead, he answered, "You're the best on the ship, and we need all the help we can find."  
  
"I... I don't know, Uncle Henry. I mean, I'm flattered, but I don't like guns, and..."  
  
"Don't worry," Gloval said, raising one of his hands in a placating gesture, "take your time. Now tell me, how's your mother doing? I haven't seen her in decades!"  
  
And as Ranma talked about Nodoka, Gloval mutely asked him for forgiveness.  
  
---  
  
Just outside Pluto's orbit, the peace once so common in that forgotten corner of the Solar System was disturbed one more time. The entire starfield shimmered as one, signaling the start of a fold operation. Right beyond Charon's orbit, incandescent motes appeared from nowhere, dancing left and right with complete freedom across a large zone of space. Then came larger anomalies: furious comets, hellish fireballs hot as the Sun. Slowly at first, they began circling around an imaginary force field, forming a globe of light brighter than a supernova. Closer and closer to each other they came, until a terrible explosion disrupted their harmony and dissolved the sphere, seemingly shredding the universe itself with its might at the same time. Raw energy poured through the rift, pulling outward and widening the hole. Ship by ship bridged the long gap of space, crossing the unique stargate and completing the transition from the far-off Earth. The irregular-shaped, cylindrical Zentraedi spaceships multiplied by the minute, more numerous than the visible stars.  
  
Finally, it was over. The largest Zentraedi armada ever deployed arranged itself behind the flagship, showing a grade of coordination unthinkable for such numbers. An order was sent and, like titanic green and brown whales swimming through an ocean of blackness, the nightmarish dreadnoughts set off after the departing SDF-1.  
  
---  
  
"Sensors register defold activity, sir!" Vanessa's voice cut through the clamor on the bridge with crystal clarity.  
  
'So, they're finally here,' Gloval thought, not without some amount of resignation. He had hoped against hope that this moment wouldn't come, but in some way he had known a new confrontation was unavoidable.  
  
Even as he ordered all the Veritechs to stand by, he realized that they might not be enough to fight off the Zentraedi under the circumstances, especially in the event of an all-out attack. The enemy armada was simply too powerful, and the SDF-1's capabilities to repel its advance had been greatly damaged now that the main gun was reduced to a last resort option. Lang's diagrams determined that the modular transformation needed to fire it would all but destroy Macross city, and Gloval refused to subject the refugees to such chaos again.  
  
All he could do now was wait--and pray.  
  
---  
  
Minmei's umpteenth retelling of her adventure in the bowels of the starship was cut short as a smiling Roy Fokker walked into the restaurant. In truth, it was not an unusual sight those days; Roy had stopped by from time to time in the previous weeks to inform Minmei's relatives of the (lack of) progress the search for Rick and her.  
  
The White Dragon was almost deserted, the few customers remaining after the morning rush hearing Minmei's story attentively. Roy strolled up to the table shared by the Lynn family and Rick and flashed one of his patented grins.  
  
After the greetings were exchanged, the blond pilot turned his attention to Minmei. "Good to see you again, Minmei. I hope my deviant buddy here wasn't too much of a nuisance for you."  
  
Minmei looked disconcerted for a moment. "Oh," she said at length, "you mean Rick. He was the best! I don't know what I'd have done without a friend like him there."  
  
Roy noted the pained expression on Rick's face as she said this, but kept quiet.   
  
"Though," Minmie went on, "he's been acting a little like a deviant, right, Rick?"  
  
Rick blushed, but answered hotly, "It was _not_ my fault! You walked on _me_, for Christ's sake!"  
  
"I hear you," Minmei said flatly.  
  
Roy raised one of his eyebrows at the exchange. "Anyway," he drawled, saving his friend from further embarrassment, "I wanted to talk to him for a while, if it's okay with you. I promise it'll be just a coupla minutes."  
  
"Sure, he's all yours." Minmei smiled slyly. "Just don't take him near lingerie shops. He'd probably get a thrill out of it, the pervert."  
  
"Hey!" Rick protested.  
  
Roy offered a smirk of his own. "I'll keep that in mind. Let's go outside, Little Brother."  
  
Together they left the White Dragon, Rick trying to hide his curiosity. They stopped at the sidewalk, standing side by side and idly watching the busy street. Finally, Roy turned and faced Rick.  
  
"How's _Mockingbird,_ Rick?  
  
Rick took a long time in answering. "I don't think I'll be able to repair it," he admitted with a downcast expression.  
  
"Do you miss flying?"  
  
Rick spun on him, angry. "What do you mean? Of course I miss it!"  
  
"I have a solution for you then. I'll be blunt, Little Brother, we need pilots. There're more Veritechs than people capable of flying 'em, and--"  
  
"Not interested, thanks," Rick interrupted, frowning.   
  
"C'mon, Rick. You belong to the air, just like me. Stop feeling sorry for yourself and help us fight. I--"  
  
He would have continued, but at that moment, a familiar female voice echoed through the city.  
  
"Attention, all hands to battle stations. Attention, all hands to battle stations," the voice blared though the ship's PA system. "This is not a drill; I repeat: this is not a drill."  
  
"Gotta go; they're playing my song. We'll finish this later, okay?"  
  
"You got my answer, Roy." The young pilot's face was serious, his jaw set.  
  
"We'll see." Roy whirled around and started running towards a jeep parked nearby. "You tell me all about you and Miss Minmei later. See ya!" Soon enough, the four-seat vehicle was speeding down the street, losing itself in the city's chaotic traffic, as many of the citizens of Macross hurried towards shelters and safe areas in their brand new cars.  
  
Rick watched him go, before shaking his head and entering into the restaurant. The table was nearly deserted now, as Minmei, Jason and Lena seemed to have left. Its only occupant, Max, was looking at him in curiosity, but didn't say anything until Rick himself was seated.  
  
"So," Max began, "what did Roy want?"  
  
Rick moved in his chair, uncomfortable, but replied, "He wanted me to become a fighter pilot. He said something about them being short-handed, or something."  
  
Max leaned forward. "What're you going to do? Are you going to join the RDF?"  
  
Rick grimaced. "No."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"Because I'm not a soldier," Rick spat, a bit irked at the older man's insistence. "Because war is pointless. Because I hate weapons. Because I'm not a murderer. Take your pick; they all work for me."  
  
"Nonsense!" Max snapped, standing up, his hands resting on the table. "You're starting to sound like my son. War's a horrible, awful thing, but..." he trailed off, his eyes staring off into the distance, looking at something only he could see. "Rick," he started one more time, suddenly sounding incredibly tired, "I'm going to tell you a story. Listen carefully; you may find it useful.  
  
"Once there was this young man, almost a boy, who lived with his parents in a small village. He led a good life, indeed, and he knew it. Every morning, he spent some time playing with his three younger brothers, whom he loved more than life itself. He used to have lunch with his family, and then go to help his father, who was a farmer. For hours he worked the earth, shoulder to shoulder with his father, and didn't return till well after the sun went down. It was a tiring, very taxing task, but he enjoyed it, and was happy with the simple routine that formed his every day.  
  
"Routines, however, exist to be broken, and so, one day, soldiers arrived at the village. They were looking for young, strong, willing men to recruit. A war raged across the country in those times, and their side was losing. With each passing day, the war came nearer to the boy's village, and they lived in constant danger of attack.  
  
"Yet when he was asked whether he wanted to join the army, the boy refused to help. He, much like you, thought that war was pointless and cruel, devoid of any kind of honor. He believed that if he were to become a soldier, his life would be wasted to protect other people's interests. He believed killing was wrong, and that there was always a peaceful solution. Besides, he thought, what difference will I make? One man in the middle of a war won't change anything. He thought many, many things... and he was also a little scared.  
  
"But the war continued, unabashed by his refusal to be part of it. And soon it was at the gates of the village, and he was able to hear the explosions at night. He tried to convince his father of leaving, of moving to another town, but to no avail. His father was a traditional man, and loved his home too much to see it gone. They stayed.  
  
"The young man's worst nightmares came true one evening, when he was returning with his father from the farm. He saw smoke in the air, and in a moment of terror realized his village had been set on fire. When they finally arrived, there was nothing they could do. Their house was a blazing inferno, and they couldn't find their family anywhere. Later, one of their neighbors told them the boy's mother and her children had been trapped in the fire, and hadn't been able to escape. Only one of the boys survived, and simply because he was in the street when it all started.  
  
"They left the village, never to return, and traveled all the way to Japan, where they built a restaurant." Taking a moment to gather his strength, Max looked at Rick intently. "That boy was me, Rick. You can't imagine the number of times I wished to have joined the army that day, instead of cowering away. Maybe it would have made no difference at all, and maybe I'd have died in that stupid war. Maybe. But if I'd died, I'd have died fighting for my family, or my friends, and that would have made it worthwhile in my mind somehow.   
  
"Don't look for meaning in war itself, my boy. Look for it in the hearts of those who fight, and risk their lives to defend their loved ones." He reached across the table, and put a hand on the younger man's shoulder. "Please, Rick, don't make the same mistakes I did."  
  
For a few moments, neither of the two men moved, staring silently into each other eyes. Then, Rick lowered his head, and long locks of raven hair hid his features. "I'm going upstairs," Rick somberly exclaimed. "I need to think." He slowly stood up, not meeting Max's gaze.   
  
When Rick was finally out of sight, Max released a shaky breath, slumping in his chair. His mind wandered through his past, suddenly bringing forward the memory of a very similar discussion, this one with his wayward son. Silently, he wished for things to go differently this time around.  
  
---  
  
Breetai's cold single eye stared at the projecbeam image, as if daring it to show something that didn't please him. The destroyer was slowly approaching Zor's fortress, its amorphous form surrounded by swarms of Battlepods. Soon, the battle would start.  
  
In the mountainous commander's mind, images of the astounding display of power he had witnessed in the trans-vid record were replayed over and over again. That such a tiny being could wield that much energy unaided was unexpected--but not entirely unpleasant. To find a worthy enemy was a stroke of fortune every true Zentraedi hoped to receive, and Breetai wasn't the exception.  
  
The Zentraedi vessel closed on the SDF-1, weapons at the ready. Responding to the threat with swiftness, the battle fortress regurgitated its own mecha, which quickly swooped around to face the incoming pods. A furious dogfight ensued, dozens of pods and Veritechs erupting in flames at the same time. The rapid fire of the SDF-1's batteries and gun turrets and the VFs' Gattling rounds met Zentraedi energy blasts and laser bolts, and short-lived spherical explosions lit the eternal night of deep space.  
  
The Micronians hadn't fired the ship's main gun, Breetai noted to his utter puzzlement. What reason could they possess to forsake their most powerful weapon? Such incomprehensible behavior...  
  
What would the Micronians come up with this time? Did they have another ace to play? Breetai knew he would get answers for these questions before the combat ended. He would see to it that it was so.  
  
---  
  
Young as he was, Jason knew immediately that something was very wrong. He was also pretty sure it had nothing to do with the fact that emergency alarms had gone off, or with that voice which was continuously urging people to go to the nearest shelter. Nor, Jason was certain, was that feeling of wrongness he was sensing in any way related to Rick, whose face had been grimly set since he had come down a few moments ago, either. No, it wasn't any of those, it was something else. He looked speculatively at Minmei, but wasn't able to find any sort of clue in her pretty face. The atmosphere in the restaurant was so dense it could be cut with a knife, and Jason idly gazed at his parents, who were quietly arguing next to him.  
  
"But Max," Lena was saying, "we can't go without Ranma!"  
  
'Ranma!' Jason thought excitedly. 'That's it, Ranma's missing!'  
  
Max shook his head. "There's no way to find him right now; he could be anywhere!"  
  
"Yes," Lena admitted, "but we _must_ try, anyway. Besides," she continued with renewed enthusiasm, "didn't he tell you he was going to meet Captain Gloval? We could phone--"  
  
"There's no time," Max explained, and then added in a more appeasing tone, "Don't worry, honey. You know Ranma can take care of himself."  
  
Jason caught his breath, not believing his ears. What? They were going to leave Ranma alone during an alert? No, he could not permit it. As Ranma always said, it was the duty of a martial artist to protect those he cares about. If they weren't going to do anything, then he would have to look for his sensei.   
  
But where could he be? If it were a normal day, Jason would have gone to the dojo, sure in the knowledge that Ranma would be training there. His sensei seemed to think the Art was much more important that anything else, and thus always tried to improve his skills. In fact, Ranma spent almost all of his time in it, and only left to come to the White Dragon, to tend to his garden, or to take a walk through...  
  
The park! He knew it very well; he had gone there many times, most of them accompanied of Ranma himself. His sensei seemed to enjoy visiting the park, despite the fact it was still rather barren, with only a few trees and some isolated patches of grass. It was built over a tower of equipment, though, and so enjoyed of a beautiful panoramic vista of the entire city below.  
  
Jason hadn't managed to understand why his sensei had such a strong liking for both his tiny garden and the communal park yet. After all, what was so special about them? He himself preferred the Arcade; now _that_ was fun.  
  
Stealthily moving towards the door, Jason gingerly opened it wide enough for his supple body to fit through. He slid past the narrow space and, not bothering to close the door, simply sprinted up the street, knowing he would reach the park in no time.  
  
Ranma would be so proud.  
  
---  
  
Gloval picked himself up from the floor with an agility unexpected for a person his age. "What was that?" he barked at Lisa while tilting his hat back.  
  
The SDF-1's First Officer hastily returned to her station, also having been knocked off her feet by the direct hit suffered by the spaceship. "One of the reactor subcontrols has been damaged, Captain, but it seems to be holding up," she said in a strained voice, studying the engineering reports constantly appearing on her console.  
  
Gloval was aware that the ship couldn't withstand the attack for much longer. A new cannon bolt hit a nearby battery, and Gloval could see through the forward viewport as the lifeless bodies of the gunners floated away in the vacuum. Something snapped within him.  
  
"That's enough! We're firing the main gun!" he yelled, enraged.  
  
He ignored the collective gasp of his crew, his head inclined, hands clasped behind his back.  
  
---  
  
The park was all but deserted, and Ranma was thankful for this. A break to sort himself out, that's what he needed. There was something unreal about the whole situation, about the park itself. Perhaps it was the continuous, unnatural breeze that constantly ran through the closed environment of the ship's vast insides, or the eerie metallic ceiling that hung over the city. Perhaps it was the importance of the decision he had to make.  
  
How had he gotten involved in a war? He wasn't a fool. Joining the army meant obeying almost blindly, and accepting orders without caring about his own opinion. He had to consciously agree to become something he had always hated: a pawn. There would be no excuses to ease his pain with if he discovered the path he had followed was the wrong one.  
  
Ranma absently recognized Lisa's voice reverberating through Macross, but promptly ignored it. He had too many things in his head at the moment to care about what that graceless old maid had to say. As many times before, he let his gaze wander freely along the modern city that lay at his feet, letting the familiar action to soothe his troubled mind. His curiosity was aroused, however, when he noticed that the traffic had stopped. Hundreds of people were venturing aimlessly through the city, some of them yelling and screaming in fear. Finally, he was able to focus in time to hear Lisa's last announcement: "Ten seconds to modular transformation and counting."  
  
'The transformation? They're actually going to do it? Uncle Henry must've gone crazy!' The ground started to vibrate beneath him, and Ranma tensed, wary.  
  
"Ranma!" yelled someone behind him. He whirled around, and saw Jason running towards where he stood.  
  
The ground between them split apart, and Jason screamed.  
  
---  
  
When the countdown finished, the modular transformation began. In a sort of synchronized turmoil, the entire ship reconfigured, changing both its internal and external structure. All throughout the stupendous spaceship, pylons and towers moved in response to their instructions. The whirring of the powerful servomotors became deafening, as entire parts of the ship rose or descended. Sections of the hull slid swiftly in a process so unbelievably complex that most people thought it impossible and nearly suicidal--the work of a delusional mind.  
  
In that instant, the SDF-1 was alive.   
  
Meanwhile, Macross city suffered its second disaster in less than a month. The gigantic hold used by the refugees to rebuild their town was severely affected by the transformation, and death stalked the streets. Buildings filled with people were destroyed as the pylon they had been constructed over rose and met the far-off ceiling; cars and pedestrians alike were swallowed as the ground parted. Others died crushed by the raining debris, while even more met their end as a momentary hole in the hull's structure was opened and the air was sucked into the vacuum outside, taking with it car, concrete blocks and dozens of people. In moments, the city was destroyed anew.  
  
---  
  
The gap widened, and before he had time to fully realize what was going on, Ranma felt himself descending. The part of the tower where he was standing rapidly fell, following its programmed orders. Reacting quickly, Ranma bolted toward the edge of the platform, and deftly jumped up to the opposite pylon, where Jason's yells for help could still be heard.  
  
As Ranma hung in the air, the abyss beneath his feet, the pylon rose unexpectedly. He twisted in mid-jump, then stretched his body, his right hand reaching up in a desperate attempt to correct his trajectory. Too fast, everything was happening too fast. In a moment of sheer terror, he realized that, for all his effort, he wouldn't be able to reach the edge of the ascending tower.   
  
That didn't keep him from trying, though, and unwilling to recognize his failure, Ranma extended his arm a little higher into the air. Time slowed down, and Ranma was able to witness in that eternal instant all his victories and fights, and knew he would do it. Somehow, he would reach that tower, for Ranma Saotome never lost, not when it really counted.   
  
Not again, no!  
  
He was taken out of his trance when he felt his outstretched hand touch something metallic. He immediately closed it, gripping the protuberance with all of his considerable strength. Glancing up, he saw he was grabbing what looked like some kind of broken sprinkler system pipe, and that it was just a few inches below the surface of the mechanic mountain. Ranma extended his left hand and, now with both hands with a firm hold on the cylinder, tried to get purchase with his legs in the plain artificial wall. Finally, one of his feet found a small ledge, which gave him more than enough leverage to pull himself up. He brought one of his legs up and, pushing his body upwards with his arms, placed it on the pipe. A jump took him to the soil-covered platform, and Ranma didn't spare time to recover his breath before he rushed towards the sobbing form of Jason, who sat on the ground with his knees against his chest.  
  
Ranma lifted him up, and, noting the rapidly-approaching ceiling, scooped him in his arms. He allowed himself a second of frivolity, and pondered on how he always ended up carrying people in his arms, but then quickly dismissed the thought and ran to the edge of the cliff. Jason gave a tiny squeal of fright when Ranma leapt down to the twin pylon far below, but kept still, paralyzed by fear and surprise alike. Having long ago learnt to cushion his falls, Ranma's feet touched the earth with awe-inspiring softness, and the martial artist hurried to put Jason down.  
  
He watched the devastated Macross that slowly rose to meet them, saddened by the terrible spectacle. All that hard work, for nothing. Ambulances and Civil Defense teams sped across the town, busily attending at the thousands of injured. Ranma gazed down at Jason, who was clutching at his shirt with both hands, still shaken by the near-death experience. 'He could've been one of them,' Ranma thought. 'He could've died.'   
  
Ranma felt anger rushing through his body, his face flushed and fists clenched tightly. Gazing irately at the Civil Defense mecha, which were wandering through Macross, helping as they could, he silently cursed the army. Without the fateful decision to go through the transformation, none of these people would have died.  
  
A moment later, his anger quickly deflated, as Ranma thought of Uncle Henry and his bridge crew. He knew the old captain would never do something like this willingly; his hand must have been forced by the events. It wasn't his fault; the Zentraedi had begun a war, and seemed determined to win it at any cost.  
  
His ire finding a new target, Ranma considered the race of gigantic warriors. The Zentraedi were ruthless, and very powerful. What stopped them from attacking again and again, until the ship was destroyed and Macross beyond rebuilding? What could hold them back?  
  
And the answer was simple: the army, the RDF.   
  
Neither Jason nor any other person he cared about would be safe until the Zentraedi were defeated. If he had to join the army in order to help win this war, then it was a small price to pay. He could never become a soldier; he might not be able to kill, not again. But he would be damned if he was going to stay still while people died around him. Uncle Henry was right. A choice was made.  
  
For a moment, the torn city seemed to quiet down, as if showing its agreement. Ranma took Jason's small hand in his, and began the long walk home.  
  
---  
  
To be continued...  



	7. Insights

---  
DISCLAIMER: Ranma 1/2 belongs to the brilliant Takahashi Rumiko. Robotech is owned by Harmony Gold USA, Inc. No copyright infringement is intended.  
  
This story is based on McKinney's books.  
  
___________________________________  
  
SILENT BATTLES  
  
A Ranma 1/2 / Robotech crossover  
  
by Latin_D (latin_d@uol.com.ar)  
  
___________________________________  
Chapter 7: Insights  
  
---  
  
The last of the students from his afternoon class walked out the big metallic double doors, and Ranma Saotome, master of the Anything-Goes School of Martial Arts, leaned back against one of walls of the training hall, his brow glistening in the cold white light. He rested there for a few seconds, but his dry throat demanded attention. With a soft groan of complaint, he pushed himself forward and headed for the vending machine across the room, his bare feet sinking slightly in the soft blue gym mat that covered the floor. The chamber was unusually bare compared to others in the complex, having been cleaned out in haste to function as an improvised classroom. The vending machine was the only appliance in the room, and stood alone near the entrance. Luckily, he needed nothing more.  
  
It had been a long day, and it was not over yet. A beginner's class was scheduled next, and then he would have to stay after hours to train the girls... Even though he was starting to wonder if they really cared about the Art at all. He shook his head wearily. People said new jobs were always difficult to adapt to, and he was beginning to see the truth in this saying. It had come as a pleasant surprise that some of his new students had been regulars at the dojo; it was one of the few anorexic rays of light to be found in what was otherwise an ocean of darkness.  
  
The morning classes were comprised of lieutenants and other commissioned officers, and some among them still viewed Ranma as an outsider--although the Army had granted him the rank of second lieutenant, hence making his incorporation to the RDF official. This, added to the fact that word of his close relationship with the Captain of the ship himself had somehow filtered through, had transformed teaching during the past few days into an uphill task.   
  
He fed the machine a few coins, and grabbed the soda it offered. "Thank you, sir," a rasping synthesized voice addressed him. Ranma started, not yet used to the wonders of Robotechnology, and half-waiting for a crossdresser to attack him. Casting off the painful memories, he opened his soda and took a long sip, sighing contently as the cold beverage coursed down his throat.  
  
It was no wonder that Ranma preferred his afternoon classes. They were mainly formed by young recruits, just out from boot camp and without as many prejudices. Plus, the cadets' bodies were fit and healthy, having undergone a thorough training under the drill sergeants' attentive care, and the elementary hand-to-hand skills learned there were still fresh in their minds, to boot. They were all diamonds in the rough, any sensei's dream come true.  
  
Likewise, basic training seemed to have instilled a serviceable philosophy in them: "Do things the way your superiors order, no matter if it makes sense or not." Genma would have drooled in the face of this opportunity, Ranma thought not without some sadness, and promptly ordered them to jump into a pit packed with starving cats. But he would use it to make them into martial artists, instead. And they _would_ learn.  
  
Ranma threw the empty can to a nearby trash bin with a flick of his wrist, and strolled to the center of the room. He let his arms hang loosely for a moment as he relaxed both mind and body, seeking the needed focus. All at once he fell into his trademarked stance, and he began a slow, if complex, kata. His feet danced across the floor, his arms and fists moving precisely along the familiar pattern.  
  
A small part of the pig-tailed martial artist's mind which wasn't focused on the both graceful and forceful movements of his body felt a twinge of nostalgia. The new position as a trainer for the Army left him with little time for almost anything else. He arrived at the base early in the morning, and never managed to escape before the city's artificial sky was dark and spangled with innumerable imitation stars. He was beginning to feel like a vampire, it had been so long since he had last seen the light of day. Because of this, Ranma saw very little of the Lynn family, and had been forced to cancel his classes at the dojo--though he kept on training Jason in his rare free moments.   
  
However, on the plus side of things, he hadn't seen Rick in a couple of days, which was no petty gift. Ranma grinned mentally at this, then sobered up. Truth be told, the boy was not in the restaurant so much any more, as he had taken to spending long hours in walks around the ship. Rick seemed permanently sad and glum lately, and avoided people whenever possible. Perhaps he ought to look into that...  
  
The kata's finale found Ranma back where he had started: the exact center of the training hall. An instant later, a new kata started, this one explosive in its speed and vivacity--one of the more "aerial" of the Saotome School. Colossal leaps carried him close to the large chamber's ceiling, and Ranma appeared to stubbornly hang in the air for seconds on end. At long last, gravity reclaimed him and brought him back to earth, where another jump would begin it all anew. Arms and legs rent the air, his red silken shirt painting fugacious crimson streaks through the room, and caused loud snaps as the air rushed out of their way.  
  
To top it all, he missed his dojo. He missed its wooden walls and sliding panels; he missed the feeling of his naked feet on its polished floor. The dojo possessed a warm, cozy feel to it, a hidden yet alluring aura which couldn't be matched by the spartan, sterile practicality of the military facilities. His father had taught him that all places were suitable for martial arts training, and that even the most dull and boring activity could become a challenging exercise--but during his stay with the Tendos he had come to appreciate the comfort a dojo provided, and now that he had finally regained it, he regretted not being able to enjoy it.  
  
And then, there was Akane... Some of their warmer moments happened in her family's dojo. He never felt closer to her than when he trained in his dojo, or sat cross-legged on the floor, staring at the small pond through the open doors. Sometimes, he could swear she was there, smiling at him...  
  
A high kick marked the kata's ending, and Ranma lowered it ever so slowly, tendons taut yet steady and firm. He let out his breath, not at all tired, and flicked the damp bangs of shiny raven hair covering his eyes out as he inhaled deeply. Sensing a presence, he pivoted, discovering a small audience of twenty-some young men gathered at the doors. They stood frozen, their mouths gaping in wonderment at the amazing display of skill. Ranma smiled inwardly, recalling that these were new students coming for their first class--Veritech pilots in training all, if his memory did not fail him.  
  
"C'mon in!" he called out, shocking them out of their collective stupor. "That is, if you're not too busy actin' like statues...."  
  
The recruits rushed in, some blushing slightly in embarrassment, and formed up into perfect lines opposite Ranma with a precision that betrayed their recent military training. He gave the drill instructors that followed them in a nod of greeting and turned back to the inductees, who were looking at him expectantly.  
  
"I'm your new sensei, Ranma Saotome. Nice to meet ya all." He bowed, and nodded, pleased, when his students returned the gesture.  
  
With only a limited experience in the Army, Ranma had already learned an important lesson: making a good impression was at best secondary to making a _lasting_ one. "My pop liked to say the path of the martial artist is fraught with peril." He gave them a toothy smirk, his blue eyes shining in barely-contained mirth, noticing the curiosity plain in their faces. "In the next two hours I'm gonna show you why."  
  
Many feet shifted uncomfortably, and the class began.  
  
---  
  
Only inches worth of the strongest polycarbonate the UEG's scientists had managed to develop after ten years of research separated him from the dark void, which patiently waited to suck him into oblivion. It was a fearsome and humbling picture, capable of throwing the bravest person into an inner philosophical debate about his or her actual place in the grand scheme of things.   
  
Perhaps this was the reason the Super Dimensional Fortress One's only viewport which was allowed to be visited by the fifty thousand plus refugees was virtually always deserted. Most of Macross' war-weary inhabitants preferred to ignore the fact that they were lost amidst the cold vacuum of space, far away from their home planet, and sheltered from the harsh reality in the urban bliss their transplanted city provided.  
  
That same solitude turned it into a good, quiet place for thinking and pondering--what Rick Hunter most needed at that moment. The viewport (simply called "the window" by the civilians, in a show of utter disrespect for military tradition that amused Rick greatly) was almost six meters tall and double that wide, and beyond it lay a breathtaking sight: a firmament richer than any other ever observed from Earth. Rick was not able to appreciate it, though, as his mind was busy on other rather sadder matters.  
  
The days he had spent trapped with Minmei had been demanding, frightening... and magical. Like futuristic Robinson Crusoes, they had shared an adventure, with enough drawbacks, action and intimate moments to merit a novel. He had thought something had formed between them, a special bond. But now Minmei ignored the entire incident, as if it had never happened, trivializing one of the most intense experiences of his life as a mere anecdote.  
  
Their kiss, just before the workers had found them--it had been real; he still could feel her sweet taste in his lips. How could she deny it?  
  
And then the war seemed to have caught up with him at long last. He had promised his father never to become a fighter pilot. "Fliers shouldn't be killers, Rick," Jack "Pop" Hunter had told his only son back when he was still a little kid. "Don't make the same mistakes I did." It was ironic in a way that Uncle Max had used those same words to prod Rick into joining the Army.  
  
When had it all started to come apart? What was the exact moment he had lost control of his life? While stranded with Minmei in the SDF-1's labyrinthine bowels? When they were finally rescued? When he had gotten into the cockpit of that Veritech back on the infamous Launch Day? The day his father died? Or maybe when Roy left the air circus to fight the Global Civil War? Did it really matter? So many questions...  
  
Rick grabbed his head with both hands, frustrated and angry with himself at his inability to reach a decision. A faint light illuminated him briefly; he looked up and saw a Veritech soaring away across space, thrusters flaring brightly with the power of its reaction drives. Rick followed it with his eyes as it lost itself in the distance, another bluish star.  
  
All of a sudden, a hand fell on his shoulder, causing Rick to jump in surprise. "It's really something, ain't it?" came the familiar, roguish voice. "Finest fighter ever built, in my humble opinion."  
  
"Oh, hi, Roy," Rick greeted half-heartedly.  
  
"Gee, feeling depressed today, kiddo? C'mon," Roy said, clapping Rick on the back. "Cheer up! We beat the bad guys again; the city is back in top shape; we haven't been attacked in days.... What else d'ya need?"  
  
Rick looked forlornly to the floor. "It's just that... I--I can't seem..."  
  
"Lemme guess:" Roy interrupted him, smirking knowingly, "it's 'bout Minmei, right?"  
  
"No. Yes. Sort of. She--she's different somehow, and I don't know how to act around her any more.... She's changed."  
  
Roy made a dismissing gesture with his hand. "If I were you, I wouldn't worry much. Minmei's young, and a bit scatterbrained. She'll come around, you'll see; you just need to give her time."  
  
"Yeah, I guess..." An uneasy silence ensued, until Rick couldn't bear it any more and asked, "Uh, how's the fighting going, Roy?"  
  
The blond pilot looked him oddly, and then drawled, "We're still hurting for pilots, if that's what ya mean." He gently turned the younger man around and stared right into his eyes, his face seriously set for once. "Stop beating around the bush, Rick. Didja decide what you're gonna do or not? Are you joining the Army, or you're still busy moping around like an overgrown schoolkid?"  
  
"Hey," Rick protested hotly, "I'm not moping! Besides, this isn't my war to fight!"  
  
"As long as you live in this ship, the war _is_ gonna find you sooner or later," Roy assured matter-of-factly. "Where d'ya wanna be when that happens: stuck in a shelter as a bystander or inside the cockpit of a Veritech, fighting for your home and the safety of your loved ones?"  
  
"Pop wouldn't have wanted me to enlist..." Rick mumbled in a low voice.  
  
Roy's eyes softened somewhat, and his voice was warm and reassuring when he next spoke. "He woulda understood, trust me. You must make up your mind, and soon; war's not gonna wait up for you.... Gotta go now, but think about it; think _hard_, okay?" He whirled around, and began walking towards one of the large corridors that ultimately led to Macross city. "Talk to ya later."  
  
Rick's troubled gaze returned to the vast space outside the enormous viewport, yet found no solace in the unconcerned stars.  
  
---  
  
The RDF base buzzed with activity as the ersatz sky started to gradually darken overhead, doing the EVE specialists' bidding. The continuous, light breeze that ran throughout the colossal alien vessel's interiors carried a deafening cacophony of hundreds of different sounds, and it was not unheard of for the occasional civilian to feel a little dazed during their first visit. New recruits, adolescents most of them, were herded like cattle to the barracks which would be their home for the next two months; drill sergeants loudly chanted snappy cadence calls, eliciting roaring choruses from the recruits marching in rank-and-file formations beside them; the doors of the officers' club were wide open, and laughter and muffled voices drifted out, adding to the sonic chaos.  
  
This same constant clamor was the one which allowed the sudden outcry to go _mostly_ unnoticed.  
  
"An instructor?! HIM?!"  
  
"Yeah," Kim responded with a bored expression, "he's been at it for a week now."  
  
Lisa blinked twice, trying to shake off her shock "But... how?"  
  
Sammie, walking next to Lisa, leaned towards her and, with the edge of her left hand pressed against the corner of her mouth, stage-whispered, "I heard somewhere that the Captain himself arranged it." She, like the two other enlisted-rating techs that formed the Terrible Trio, was dressed in a brand-new white gi, though more as a concession to tradition than because of a request from their trainer.   
  
"Nepotism," the SDF's First Officer said to herself with utter disgust, as if that lone word gathered everything that was wrong with the world. "Now, explain me again why you're going to see him so late, please."  
  
"Because," Kim informed, "the classes at the dojo were called off, and we really wanna see him, and he's very busy in the mornings, and Ranma was _so_ sweet that he let us come after hours for some--" She made a short pause, heaving a melodramatic sigh-- "late training."  
  
Lisa patiently ignored the giggling around her, and asked, "And why must I come with you?"  
  
Vanessa was the one that answered this time, showing a degree of unspoken coordination with her two girlfriends that struck Lisa as eerie and unnerving. "Because," she said, resettling her glasses with her right-hand forefinger, "you gave your word, and we're not gonna let you go back on it."  
  
"And why is Claudia here?" Lisa glanced at her long-time friend, who was separated from the foursome, her hands in her jacket pockets.  
  
Claudia herself answered, a slight grin surfacing in her face. "Because I've wanted to spar with Ranma since I met him, and this's my chance." She looked at Lisa, and the grin widened. "Besides, it's always fun to see you at each other's throats." She was wearing a gray sweat suit, apparently intent on carrying out her plans.  
  
"You seem to have all the answers, eh?" Lisa commented, a bit peeved, idly combing her thick brown hair with her slender fingers. "Okay, you win. Just make it short; I don't want to waste my first leave in weeks in the presence of that jerk."  
  
Minutes later, they reached the large complex of rooms and corridors where new recruits received the bulk of their training. Like most of the areas in the ship used by the Army, it was made up of the kind of spacious, empty chambers that were so abundant in the alien craft's huge inside. They entered through the main door, carefully picking their way through the lines of inductees walking in the opposite direction. In time, they arrived at the training hall where Ranma worked, and were about to go in when the door unexpectedly swung open of its own accord, letting out, to their complete astonishment, the sound of pained groans and muffled moans.  
  
Out came exactly twenty two young men--they walked so slowly Lisa was able to count them with no problem whatsoever, a testament to their sorry state. They staggered past them, lurching like drunkards, and slowly fell in formation less than a meter behind the flabbergasted officers.  
  
"Guy's insane, I tell ya," one of them was panting, inhaling loudly as he tried to recover his breath. "And I thought Morales was bad..."  
  
"I hear you," a burly man beside him concurred. "Oooh, dammit! If I kick one more time my leg's gonna come off, I swear it."  
  
"But... he... did... some very... cool stuff... back there," his scrawny companion pointed out between gasps.  
  
"Yeah," the first man agreed, grimacing, "he did. He's gotta be some kinda freakin' Japanese Superman, or somethin'."  
  
A tall, beefy, nasty-looking man, who Lisa immediately identified as the squad's DI, exited the gaping door, bringing the conversation to an abrupt halt. The recruits snapped to attention, backs straightening and shoulders squaring--but she could note some of the young men's knees trembling because of the exertion it required.  
  
Claudia and Lisa looked at each other, both finding the same doubts etched in their faces: What had just happened? And more importantly even, what had Ranma _done_ to those men? Claudia tried to suppress a shiver as she witnessed the most horrible pictures in her mind's eyes. Sparring did not sound as such a good idea to her any more.  
  
Lisa, on the contrary, found herself peeved after the initial shock passed. What was wrong with the trainees? Didn't they know they were making the RDF look bad with their attitude? Weren't they grown up men? Even more, _soldiers_? They ought to be able to take anything that jerk Ranma could dish out. She would have to talk with the officer in charge of the basic training planning; the recruits were obviously not fit enough, if they had so much trouble standing after barely two hours of exercise.  
  
The trio of young techs, seemingly ignoring the other two women's reactions, appeared to take the whole episode in stride.  
  
"First class," Kim observed nonchalantly, receiving casual nods from Sammie and Vanessa. Without further ado, they stepped into the room, unaware of the incredulous looks their companions were directing toward them. Claudia and Lisa warily followed them, and saw the Terrible Trio waiting close to the wall, in an uncharacteristic show of restraint, fascinated stares fixed on what was taking place ahead.  
  
On the blue gym mat, Ranma was performing powerful, graceful spin kicks with an ease almost surreal, and a tall, lean man, slightly behind him, copied his every move, if not with the same elegant fluidness, skillfully all the same. The man was in his early twenties, and had a thin, slender face, with a small nose and refined features that gave him a sort of urbane handsomeness. His skin, white as milk, contrasted against his serene dark eyes, which stayed focused on his sensei. His tall if lithe frame flowed from one position to the next in calm, swift movements, and tough his gray sweatshirt was soaked wet with perspiration, he gave no sign of fatigue when Ranma sped up, and merely followed suit.  
  
Not bad, Vanessa mutely decided, even though she still preferred Ranma's exotic looks.  
  
But just then a sergeant was approaching the pair, making Ranma stop the exercise. "Sir," Drill Sergeant Morales said, "I'm sorry, but Preston cannot stay behind his squad. He must be in the mess hall in ten minutes, so I'm afraid further martial arts training will have to wait until tomorrow."  
  
"Can't he stay for just one more minute? I've got this great technique I want to show him, where you use--"  
  
"Sorry, sir," Morales interrupted, "but if we permit the recruit to stay any longer, it'll play havoc with the training schedule. Major Ghent set up that schedule personally. Would you want to be the one to tell the major why you think it's necessary to throw his schedule out the window for the benefit of one soldier?" The lean, square-shouldered man's face showed the slightest hint of the beginnings of a sardonic smile.  
  
"Huh? Oh, in that case..." He turned to his student and bowed, the man quickly returning the gesture, slightly more deeply. Then, Ranma spoke: "This is it for the day, Greg. Remember to practice the kata I showed ya, 'kay?"  
  
"Yes, sensei. Goodbye, sir." The young man bowed once more and rushed out of the room, Sergeant Morales one step behind.  
  
"See ya tomorrow," Ranma called, and Claudia could hear him softly adding to himself, "He's good..."  
  
The door closed silently, and the trio of techs walked up to the mat and bowed. "HI, RANMA-SENSEI!" they said as one. Lisa shook his head in disbelief and embarrassment for her friends' behavior. What did they see in that man?  
  
Ranma groaned, "Heya, girls. ...So you came, eh?" He did not sound very thrilled.  
  
"We wouldn't miss your class for anything," Sammie declared cheerfully, "sensei!"  
  
Kim was fast to agree. "You're the best sensei ever!"  
  
"And the most good-looking, too!" Vanessa finished, winking slyly.  
  
The pig-tailed martial artist flushed slightly, then cleared his throat, his left hand busy rubbing the back of his head. "Yeah, er, that's, um, good. You, uh, keep that attitude." He gazed past them, finally noticing the two officers standing by the wall. "Hi, Claudia," he greeted the brunette woman, and she responded in kind. Only then she faced Lisa and, suppressing a grin, he called, "Hello, Tomboy."  
  
Claudia and the techs winced, waiting for the outburst sure to come. They were surprised, though, when Lisa failed to react immediately, and instead spoke in a calm voice. "Tomboy?" Lisa repeated; there was an edge to her voice. "So I am a tomboy, right?"  
  
"Ayep. Anyway," Ranma continued, crossing his arms and watching her attentively, "whatever brings _you_ here? Don't tell me you like martial arts..."  
  
Lisa was smiling as she answered, though Claudia noticed her eyes narrowing. "As a matter of fact, I do." Her tone was strained now, but Ranma failed to notice it once again.  
  
"Really?" Ranma gave her a quick once-over. "Your hips were so thick I thought your hobby was eating cakes."  
  
"For your information, I was the best in my class. I bet I could wipe the floor with you in no time at all," she drawled, "but I'm not sure if it'd be worth the effort. I mean, you're probably too used to bullying those green recruits you train." Claudia would have sworn Lisa's eyes glowed as she walked up to the gym mat, practically shoving Sammie and Kim aside, and fell into a classic karate stance.  
  
Gotcha! Ranma smiled to himself, content. "Well, there's only one way to find out, dontcha think?" His hands clasped behind his back, Ranma saw Lisa taking a swing at him, and grinned.  
  
---  
  
"Why won't you... stop... dodging and... fight me... for REAL?!" Lisa heaved as she directed a blow at her opponent's midsection. Her fist swiftly closed in, but just when the punch seemed unavoidable, its target rapidly moved sideways, and she struck the empty space it had occupied only a fraction of second ago. Again.  
  
"Hey, Lisa's doing really well," Vanessa pointed out from her sitting position on the floor, her back against the wall and her eyes intently taking on the on-going fight.  
  
Cludia, seated next to her, turned away from the encounter long enough to send her a skeptical look. "What do you mean 'really well'? She hasn't hit him _once_!"  
  
"Yeah," the bespectacled tech conceded, "but she actually came close a couple of times. That's more than most of Ranma's sparring partners can say."  
  
Kim nodded. "Pity she won't last; she's already getting tired."  
  
"I always told her she needed to exercise more," Claudia said, turning a critical eye to her superior.  
  
"Yeah, all that time at her station can't be healthy. I know it isn't for me..." Sammie actually sounded concerned for a moment. "All that stress is gonna make my face become wrinkled, girls, I swear it!" On the blue, padded mats Ranma dodged another flurry of blows by backflipping in the nick of time, and she promptly forgot her distress. "Go Ranma! You can do it, Lisa!"  
  
"Who're you cheering on, anyway?" Claudia wanted to know.  
  
Sammie pondered for an instant, her forefinger to her lower lip. "Well, Lisa's my friend and my superior officer, and Ranma's my sensei and a hunk, so--both, of course!"  
  
Ranma paid no heed to the girls' remarks and made a show of yawning mightily, covering his mouth with one hand while the other rested behind his head. "You're so slow I could fight ya in my sleep..." he said to Lisa. "Actually, this's so boring I'm fallin' asleep right now." He yawned once again.  
  
Lisa launched a powerful kick at his head, trying to catch him when his guard was down. Ranma merely ducked to his left, her foot missing by less than a hairbreadth, and then evaded the follow-up sharp, slanting chop that nearly clipped his chin by tilting his head back. "ARGH! When I... get... my hands on... you," she threatened, breathing heavily, "you're... gonna wish... you hadn't born, you sneaky dirtbag!"  
  
Ranma put a hand to his chin as he absently hopped over a footsweep. "Hmm, I think I heard that before. Okay, I'll tell ya what we're gonna do: if you can at least touch me, then I promise I'll fight back. Is that okay with ya?"  
  
Lisa simply charged at him, executing the most complex combination of lightning-fast punches and kicks she knew and putting all her remaining strength in them. It made no difference in the end, as Ranma seemed to dance around her blows, shifting, sidestepping and dodging with practiced ease. Her attack met nothing but air, and her frustration increased exponentially. Suddenly, she had an idea. She looked behind Ranma, abruptly standing to attention. "Captain Gloval, sir!"  
  
"Uncle...?" Ranma began before recognizing the maneuver for what it was. Only his heightened senses and superior speed permitted him to avoid the swing aimed at his face by letting himself fall to the floor and quickly rolling away. He came to his feet, a trace of newfound respect in his eyes. "Nice try, I give ya that. Now, are we finished?"  
  
"Not until I make you eat your words!"  
  
"Sorry, I already ate. A tomboy like you probably can't cook anyway!" Ranma taunted, playfully sticking his tongue out at Lisa. "Besides, it's late and I gotta get goin'--so say goodbye." Ranma bore down on her, his hands blurring before him and forming a small yet destructive tornado of flesh and bones. Lisa was so set in her attack that her hastily-erected defenses were overwhelmed in a matter of seconds, leaving her wide open for Ranma's barrage. She shut her eyes, waiting for the blow that never came. Instead, she felt a feathery touch on her brow and, opening her eyes, saw Ranma pressing an index finger to her face.  
  
"I win. Lesson's over," he said, that devil-may-care grin Lisa was beginning to hate plastered in his face.  
  
The sound of hearty applause interrupted the staring contest that resulted, and both fighters turned towards its source. Lisa's four companions were clapping wildly, Claudia nodding to herself knowingly.  
  
"Great match!" she enthused. "I didn't know you had it in you, Lisa. And you weren't lying, Ranma; I don't think I ever saw someone as good as you."  
  
"No one is as good as Ranma-sensei!" Sammie concurred excitedly.  
  
"Not even a pissed-off Lisa," Kim added. "Which is a lot to say, really."  
  
Lisa tried to ignore the smugness that virtually radiated from the martial artist's body after the praise and did her best to calm herself before she did something she would _probably_ regret.  
  
Claudia stepped forward, smiling widely. "If you two lovebirds are done playing, maybe Ranma and I could have a little sparring match..."   
  
It took an instant for the words to register through Ranma's self-satisfaction and Lisa's irritation, but register they did. "LOVEBIRDS?!"  
  
"Just a joke, guys. No need to get flustered," Claudia said, placating hands risen in the air. Then, cocking her head like in sudden remembrance, she consulted her tiny wristwatch and gasped--perhaps a little too loudly. "Oh, no! I forgot I had plans for a late dinner with Roy! If I run I'll make it on time, I think." She slipped Ranma a sly wink, and added, "I trust you'll escort Lisa to her quarters, Ranma. And you still owe me that match, mister! Later!"  
  
"Wait!" Lisa yelled, but Claudia did not halt her sprint and was out of sight in no time.  
  
Lisa was still staring at the gaping door when the bridge bunnies shared a look and started edging towards the door, too. "Well," Vanessa sniggered, "if you two want time to get lovey-dovey, we'll just see you tomorrow, Ranma-sensei. Pity, though," she continued, mock-pouting. We'd changed into our gi and everything. You owe us, Lisa! Have fun!" The girls giggled their way out of the room, leaving Lisa alone with Ranma in the now overly-silent room.  
  
The brunette officer let out one of her distinctive growls, but did not follow them. Instead, she stood still for a moment, unsure of what to do and suddenly all too aware of Ranma's closeness. The quiet continued for what seemed to Lisa like an eternity, and she inwardly swore to take vengeance on her friends, her anger towards Ranma forgotten for the time being. At last, she could not take it any more and simply started towards the exit.  
  
"Where are you goin'?" Ranma asked her, stopping her in her tracks.  
  
"Where do you think I'm going, hotshot?" Lisa countered, her tone openly hostile. "To my bedroom, so I can chew myself out about the night lost and maybe get some sleep." Her blouse was ruined after the one-way fight which it was never meant to endure; her loose-fitting cuffed pants felt sweaty, and she certainly was not in the mood for shopping anymore, as she had first planned.  
  
"Oh." Ranma shrugged. "Well, let's go."  
  
"'Let's go'?" she repeated, incredulous. "_You're_ not going anywhere. I don't need a bodyguard, thank you very much."  
  
"Have it your way." He turned his head and crossed his arms. "Jeez, you try to be polite..."  
  
Lisa snorted. "This coming from a man who insults me every time he sees me."  
  
"I never insulted you," Ranma said to her, unfortunately unaware of the effect his words had until it was too late.  
  
Lisa spun on him, seeing red. "No? So when you called me 'Tomboy' today you meant it as a compliment, eh?!" she exploded, punctuating her words with angry jabs with her finger. "Oh, PLEASE forgive me! I hadn't understood! You must be too SUBTLE for the likes of me!" She was literally yelling at his face by now.  
  
Ranma, who had closed his eyes during the onslaught, warily opened one of them, peeking at her with more than a little fear--even if he would never ever admit it. "Oh, that," he mumbled feebly.  
  
"Yes, THAT!"  
  
"I'm, er... I'm..." Ranma swallowed hard and, after a series of false start, got out a weak: "I'm sorry."  
  
"You think 'I'm sorry' will fix everything?"  
  
"Geez, I'm really sorry, alright?!" He offered Lisa a contrite look. "I just wanted to get the girls outta my hair for a while and then I saw you and..."  
  
"...and you thought picking a fight with me would be a good idea," she finished for him.  
  
"It worked well enough," Ranma muttered, but Lisa's smoldering glare silenced him for good. However, watching him standing penitently opposite her, as if waiting for her to hit him or punish him somehow, Lisa could not find it in her to stay angry at the pig-tailed man. With a weary sigh, she threw her arms to the air and gave up.  
  
"Fine, fine, apology accepted," she yielded at long last. "Come on, but try to keep your foot out of your mouth for a change."  
  
Ranma's smiled tiredly, and followed her out into the well-lit corridor. "Okay, I'll do my best."  
  
"One more thing, Ranma."  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Next time you do something like that, I'll pull a gun on you."  
  
"...Okay..."  
  
---  
  
A multitude crowded Macross City's main shopping street, to the point where Rick found himself forced to walk sideways on many occasions. It eluded him how Minmei, who was guiding him through the thronged sidewalks, shops and shopping malls of the modern city with expertise, was able to walk so gracefully among the people, especially compared to his rather awkward gait. She cut through the crowd like a fish though water, men and women alike seemingly parting before her. Like a queen among her subjects...  
  
Rick took a moment to look about and collect impressions. All around him, the vivid image of prosperity greeted him: carefree laughter, lustrous cars, green trees and blue sky. Abundance and lushness were the order of the day, and the war was far away in the minds of the citizens, a taboo topic to be avoided whenever possible. He, still a teenager, was more worried about the future than those who had seen their homes destroyed twice already. He hoped someone appreciated the irony. In that moment, he felt lonelier than ever before.  
  
A gentle but firm tug on his hand pulled him onwards, and Rick reluctantly complied. He enjoyed window-shopping as much as the next guy--which was, in truth, not all that much--but after one entire hour of it he was rapidly approaching his limits. Minmei finally stopped at another storefront, and Rick jumped at the chance.  
  
"Minmei, listen, why don't we take a walk through the park?" he suggested, placing himself between her and the shopwindow, blocking her view. "What do you say?"  
  
"Sure, Rick, in a minute." She kept on gazing longingly over his shoulder at the mauve, low-cut dress displayed, craning her neck as though to see better.  
  
"But we've been shopping for hours!" Rick protested, annoyed at being ignored. "A short break won't hurt."  
  
"I just _have_ to try on that dress," she resisted. "I promise we'll go later."  
  
"I need to talk to you, Minmei, I really do." He turned an almost pleading look at her. "Please?"  
  
A strange expression crossed her face, but she assented in the end. "Okay, Rick, you win. What's so important, anyway?"  
  
The throng streamed past them, oblivious to the young couple. It was as if Minmei and him formed a tiny world of their own, like an island that witnesses the waters of a river race by, indifferent to the small chunk of soil. Nevertheless, Rick felt uncomfortable, unwilling to give voice to his fears and concerns in such a public place. "First let's go to the park; there's too many people here."  
  
The Chinese waitress agreed, and both headed towards the park at a slow pace. After the modular transformation that laid waste to Macross, the city plan was revised to avoid further catastrophes of its kind. Danger zones were thoughtfully cordoned off, and shelters were clearly marked. Thus, the entire Macross Central Park was also transplanted off the communication tower it had originally been constructed on into a more secure area: it was now situated in the center of the uppermost of the three tiers the city was rebuilt on.  
  
Rick's aloofness wound up rubbing off even on the buoyant Minmei, and they went on in almost complete silence. She couldn't hide the sudden misgivings she was feeling, and tried to get Rick to open up many times during the short trip to no avail. None too soon, they reached the park, and sat at one of the benches--close enough to indicate they were together, adequately distant to testify they were not lovers.  
  
"C'mon now, Rick, tell me, what's the problem? You're scaring me."  
  
"I..." He fumbled for the right words, then chose all the wrong ones. "Minmei, I may not be able to see you for some time..."  
  
Minmei was by his side at once, holding his hand. "What's wrong? Are you sick or something?" she asked him. "Tell me the truth!"  
  
"No, no," he hastened to clarify, "nothin' like that!" He turned to her, and spoke slowly, with all the cheer of a man facing a firing squad. "Roy, he came to see me today, and asked me to join the Defense Force." He fidgeted a little as he waited for her to reply, not certain if she would give him the reassurance he needed. He was half-hoping she would try to convince him that his first reaction, that of staying well away from the Army and all it entailed, had been the correct one, and his latest decision was wrong.  
  
"Oh, Rick, that's wonderful!" Minmei gave a dumbfounded Rick a quick hug, her face aglow.  
  
Rick held her at arm's length, his eyes unbelieving. "So--so you think I should enlist?"  
  
"Well, you told me flying was your whole life, didn't you?" she returned. "Besides, you'd be fighting for all of us--you'd be a _hero_!" She seemed so excited about the idea that Rick was not able to find the heart to contradict her.  
  
"Yes, perhaps I would..." he agreed, but his dispirited expression told otherwise--or would have, if Minmei had been paying attention.  
  
"Of course you would! I'm so happy for you! You'll be the best pilot in the ship, you'll see!" Minmei proclaimed, not allowing Rick put in another word as she raved on.  
  
He listened the words of encouragement that gushed forth from Minmei's lips, which foretold a career of glory and triumphs, a future of perpetual happiness and a brilliant destiny, and yet, try as he might, he could not force himself to believe them. However, even as he saw her beautiful features, her eyes shining as though with a light of its own, confident in what fate held in store for them even after the many calamities, he realized just how special and precious she truly was. Helping her preserve that charming innocence of hers would well be worth a small sacrifice, he mutely resolved.  
  
Even if it cost him a part of his own.  
  
---  
  
Ranma attentively gazed as Greg Preston, his raven-haired, light-skinned student, performed the kata he had taught him less than an hour ago. He did it with a precision that could have deceived most into believing he had practiced it for months--most, but not Ranma. His adept gaze perceived numerous if minor mistakes: a foot half an inch too low, a kick executed a second too late. But the core of the exercise was there; all it needed was polish.  
  
Acknowledging the young man's latent aptitude for the Art, Ranma had singled Greg out of his class immediately, and practically railroaded his DI into accepting to let him come back after his regular class for some special training. At the moment Greg was only a very good martial artist, but with the right sort of help--Ranma's help--he could become a true practitioner of the Art.  
  
Sensing his student's growing weariness, Ranma signaled Greg to stop his exercises and beckoned him over to the vending machine, next to which a long bench had been placed at Ranma's request. They sat, and Ranma offered his student a cold soda, who gladly accepted it with a nod of thanks.  
  
"I notice ya studied Kempo, Greg," the pig-tailed instructor pointed out.  
  
The young pilot nodded. "Yeah, I started when I was ten. My father sent me 'cause he thought it'd teach me self-discipline."  
  
"Well, you're skilled," Ranma admitted, then hurried to temper the assessment, "but a bit slow. And maybe a tad on the weak side. And your kata are a bit sloppy. And your reflexes are not all that impressive. And--"  
  
Greg winced with every further clarification, until he decided to butt in: "Er, sensei? Please, no more praise. I'm gonna blush..." he trailed off, sarcasm dripping from his voice.  
  
Ranma checked himself, and went on, "The point is, I believe you've got potential. We'll have to work hard, but I think I can make a martial artist out of ya yet. Whaddaya say?"  
  
Greg shrugged. "Sure, sensei. Though I don't think I'll be able to come so often. Flight school starts in three days, and they say the schedule's gonna be hell for us." He shook his head and clicked his tongue resignedly, but there was a hint of barely-hidden pride and eagerness in his voice.  
  
"It's no problem at all," Ranma told him, grinning from ear to ear. "We'll just have to train ever harder, won't we?"  
  
"Slave driver," Greg muttered, low enough to ensure his sensei would not hear it, lest he decided to order more of his backbreaking exercises.  
  
Ranma gulped down the rest of his soda. "How didja end up in Macross, anyway?"  
  
"Oh, my old man was one of the first to come to Macross. He's a designer, y'know, one of the men that rebuilt the Fortress, and worked for the Internationalists during the War. So he got a good look at her, and realized he'd better bring in his family, 'cause that sure wasn't a summer job." He grinned at this, and Ranma involuntarily conjured an image of the SDF-1's burnt wreck as he himself had witnessed it, repressing a shudder. "So," Greg continued, "we moved in to the city--which was really just a buncha houses next to the port back then--and that's pretty much it."  
  
"Your pop still works in the ship?"  
  
Greg pointed over his shoulder. Ranma looked, and blinked at the small machine the other man seemed to be pointing at.  
  
"He makes those stupid vending machines?"  
  
His student chuckled and shook his head. "No, he works in the aft section of the ship, in the engineering section. He's one of Doctor Lang's Robotechnicians now. He really got involved in this whole Robotech business."  
  
"What 'bout the rest of your family?" Ranma asked, not noting how Greg's shoulders tensed upon hearing the question. "They live in Macross?"  
  
Greg, who had been talkative until then, seemed reticent now, and refused to meet Ranma's eyes. At length, he answered, "I'm an only child. And my mom, she--she passed away," Greg said, stumbling over the words.  
  
Ranma, taken off guard, only stuttered an apologetic: "Oh, Greg, sorry. I didn't know that."  
  
Greg shook his head, dismissing it as unimportant. "It's okay, sensei, you couldn't've known." He leaned back on the bench, his head touching the wall, and closed his eyes. "She was killed on the Launch Day. My dad's status gave us some privileges, so our home was over the hills--where the aliens first attacked the island. We'd gone back to the house after the sirens went off, and only got the order to evacuate to the bomb shelters after the SDF-1 took off. We'd just gotten into the car when they came.  
  
"Those damned metal ostriches fell on us from nowhere, and one stepped on the house and destroyed it. I took to the road at once, but the sons-of-bitches hopped faster than my car! And they kept firing--at us, at the woods, at the buildings... I thought we were gonna die right there but, thank God, the VTs came and they distracted the bastards enough for us to reach the city safely--and then the battle caught up with us again.  
  
"It was hell, sensei, pure hell. There was so much dust in the air that sometimes I couldn't see where we were going. Big rocks fell on the road by the hundreds, and I had to swerve all the time to dodge them. We were just a block away from the shelter when we run out of luck: A big piece of concrete struck the hood, I hit my head against the wheel, and it knocked me out. I don't know how long I was out of it, a coupla minutes I guess. When I woke up, my face was covered in blood, and I couldn't see very well.  
  
"Mom, I--I found her sprawled on the street. It seems the crash sent her through the windshield. She was unconscious, and had a long cut across her forehead; the blood didn't let me see her face. Her left leg was broken, too. I searched for a pulse, but found none, so I gathered her in my arms, and ran for the shelter.  
  
"When we finally reached it, someone took my mom and a nurse tended my wounds. Mom died before I got to the shelter, they told me. The doctor said it was painless, that the impact killed her instantly, but I don't believe him. I myself stayed at the hospital in Macross City for a week while they treated the concussion. Luckily, my father'd been inside the ship all the time..." A bittersweet smile crept onto his lips, and he repeated to himself, "Luckily."  
  
Ranma had kept an uncomfortable silence during the entire story, and now found himself at a loss for words. How were you supposed to act when an acquaintance told you something so personal? "I'm really sorry, Greg. I didn't mean to pry."  
  
"Don't worry, sir. I didn't have the chance to talk about this much," Greg admitted, "and it feels good to get it all out for once."  
  
"This's why you became a pilot, right?" Ranma asked in sudden understanding.  
  
"Yes. My home seemed too quiet after that, especially 'cause rebuilding the city kept my dad busy at work most of the time. And I wanted to pay the bastards back some of the pain they'd caused." He stared at the elder man in the eye. "Vengeance's as good a reason as any to join the RDF, isn't it?"  
  
Ranma chose not to answer, for he knew better than that. The desire for revenge, for some sort of retribution or justice, had driven his life for many years after Akane's death, and he wanted nothing more with it. So he decided to change the subject, and enthused, "Awright, break time's over! Now I want ya to repeat that last kata I showed you over and over and over again 'til you have it down to a T, understood?" He started towards the mat after dropping the can in the dustbin.  
  
"Bully," his student said under his breath, the past conversation forgotten.  
  
"I heard you," Ranma called over his shoulder, making Greg startle. "Both times. I guess it's time for more sparring--ya seem to need the exercise."  
  
Greg simply groaned.  
  
---  
  
The officer's mess was empty and silent, save for the two young women sitting at one of the small tables over the old jukebox by the wall. Which suited them just fine, as their ears still rang with the ceaseless din that dominated the bridge at all times. If the mighty reflex engines were the SDF-1's heart, then the bridge was its brain, and it was never idle or inactive. Because of this, any respite, no matter how short, was welcomed and cherished by its crew.  
  
It was especially hard for Claudia and Lisa: they were perhaps two of the few truly irreplaceable people in the entire ship. The Bridge Officer's experience made her indispensable in hairy situations, and Lisa's knowledge of the spaceship's systems was second only to Doctor Emil Lang's, the resident Robotechnology wizard. Thus, the permanent alert they had supported for weeks now, with its restless nights and constant vigilance, had taken a heavy toll in them--the reason the women currently sat hunched at their respective chairs, shoulders drooping.  
  
"Ooooh," Lisa moaned, bleary-eyed, as she rubbed her neck in a vain attempt to loosen up the kinks hours of leaning over her station monitor had created. "I'm so tired I feel I could sleep through the whole trip home--" She tilted her head, as if pondering-- "and then some more."  
  
Claudia sipped at her ice tea, absentmindedly listening to the soft music coming from the jukebox. "Join the club. I haven't had a good night's sleep since we were on the island." She tried to suppress a yawn, and failed. "Well, if things quiet down for awhile, we might be able to get a pass."  
  
Lisa snorted. "I sincerely doubt it after yesterday's catastrophe."  
  
Claudia nodded, her countenance turning serious at once as his mind replayed the previous evening's events. She was on duty when it all came to pass; Captain Gloval was in his quarters and Lisa away on some errand or another. The radar picked up a signal: ten alien mecha travelling fast in the direction of the ship. At first, no one was alarmed; the enemy had sent small parties of fighters regularly during the past weeks, but they had all been easily repelled.  
  
A flight of Veritechs which was on patrol at the time was ordered to engage the incoming enemy, and the VTs easily succeeded in keeping it at bay. Sustaining heavy losses, the pods turned to flee, and many thought the danger was over. But then the radar screen showed a new signal, and alarms flashed in the bridge crew's consoles. Another group of Battlepods, taking advantage of the momentary confusion the skirmish occasioned, had managed to slip close to the SDF-1, unnoticed by an untimely stroke of misfortune. A squadron of VTs was promptly dispatched after them, but before they could do anything to stop them, the alien aircraft shot their missiles at the battle fortress, scoring numerous hits against its hull. The pods were quickly pushed back by the Earth fighters, but the harm was already done. While the damage to the ship's superstructure was minimal, one of the missiles passed through a gap in the armor, detonating in the training complex's proximity. The ensuing explosion provoked the cave-in of numerous holds and compartments.  
  
Including the one in which the mess hall had been set up.  
  
"I just received the last reports:" Lisa informed her, "nine deaths, a recruit in coma, and twenty others with minor injuries." Practice allowed her to talk of these grievous matters with only a hint of emotion behind; shielding yourself from the horrors of commanding was a lesson they had both learned a long time ago.  
  
"What a tragedy..."  
  
"By the way, what're you doing tonight?" Lisa asked Claudia, looking for a new topic.  
  
"I'm busy, sorry. I've got a date with Roy; we're going to that new Italian restaurant that opened last week." She smiled to herself in anticipation. She and Roy had found it near to impossible to find free time to spend together, and so she jumped at every opportunity.  
  
"Oh," Lisa breathed, disappointed and slightly sad, too. The mention of Claudia Grant and Roy Fokker's romantic and passionate love affair had always caused certain uneasiness in Lisa, as it accentuated her own loneliness and forced her to face a part of her personal life she was not comfortable with--and brought forth memories she wanted to leave behind. "Well, the girls told me they had work tonight, so I guess I'll just go to bed earlier than usual..."  
  
Claudia saw her friend's downcast visage, and then ventured, "Why don't you ask Ranma out?"  
  
"Ranma?!" Lisa repeated loudly, as lately she was wont to whenever Ranma's name was invoked. "Are you crazy? Why would I do that? I don't want anything to do with him."  
  
"When he walked you to your quarters, I thought you'd become friends..." Claudia trailed off in a playful tone.  
  
"I only let him accompany me," Lisa retorted, "because he begged me!"  
  
"He _begged_ you? Ranma?" Claudia asked, the very concept so foreign as to be inconceivable. In the weeks she had known Ranma, she had never heard him apologize for anything nor give excuses for his actions. He seemed to be a person with a healthy self-pride, to put it mildly--much like Roy. "We're talking about the same person here?"  
  
Lisa turned her eyes away, cheeks rosy. "Okay," she conceded, "so he didn't _exactly_ beg me--but it was practically the same. Anyway, I don't want to talk about it any more, so drop it, alright?" Lisa crossed her arms, letting her friend know that she was serious.  
  
"Fair enough," Claudia said, but her smirk told Lisa she would not give up so easily.  
  
---  
  
The day started in the usual fashion: breakfast, early training with Jason, a quick snack before going to the base, class, snacking after a new encounter with the crazy vending machine, more classes... The routine was already so ingrained in him that he was almost able to go through the familiar motions of his new life mechanically. Hectic as his life had always been, first travelling with his father across Japan and then living in Nerima, with the constant fights and adventures, Ranma had never had nothing remotely similar to a routine. And, to his utter surprise, he realized it was not as tedious and boring as he had initially believed--or rather, it _was_ tedious on occasion, but that proved a sought after relief from the madness that followed him wherever he went.  
  
But Ranma had learned something about himself in the last years: though the excitement that marked his life could be bothersome at times, it was also the one thing that defined him. Without it, he could not feel complete, and would certainly wither and fade. Yet that did not stop him from enjoying the momentary peace to the full, and gathering his strength for the next escapade.  
  
In fact, so smoothly had his day glided by, that the first discordant element immediately set off alarms in his head. His final class was mute and subdued as it slipped into the room, although they were normally a boisterous lot. They walked wearily, their backs rounded as if carrying the weight of a mountain on them; their eyes wandered aimlessly, refusing to make eye contact neither with Ranma nor with each other. The martial artist felt a cold sensation in his gut, and the atmosphere turned dense and oppressive as the trainees lined up in front of him, hesitantly waiting for an unknown signal in nervous muteness.  
  
He promptly counted them, and discovered with dread that two men were missing; he spent a few instants to recall the name of one of them, but the other's face was foremost in his mind: Greg was not there.  
  
"What's the problem, guys?" Ranma asked, and there was in his voice only the slightest tremble of doubt and uncertainty. "Where're Greg and Paul?" He sensed more than saw his students grit their teeth, the air thickening even further. "So?" he pressed on in the face of their indecisiveness as he tried to calm himself, hoping against hope he was jumping to conclusions.  
  
A short, brown-haired boy whose name was lost to Ranma at that moment finally, reluctantly, took a step forward and raised his head to look at his instructor; his eyes shone with unshed tears amidst his boyish face. "Preston and Rusedsky tuned out, sensei," he whispered barely loud enough for Ranma to catch, using the pilot's slang term with infinite sadness.  
  
"What?" Ranma said, not familiar with the lingo.  
  
A broad-shouldered man named Marcos Wade came to his help. He was built like a boulder, and towered above the rest of the class like a skyscraper among houses. "He means," he explained, the faintest Spanish accent noticeable, "they're not with us any more, sensei. They died yesterday in an accident at the mess."  
  
Ranma drew back as if someone had thrown ice water at him, and his mouth suddenly dried. It was not possible! It had to be some sort of mistake!  
  
And yet one look at the grim expressions on the young men's faces completely crushed his hopes, and his words of denial died before reaching his lips. There, standing as vulnerable as a brittle leaf in a windstorm, their young ages were more evident than ever before. Nothing had prepared them for the loss of two friends, not all the training, not life. Hearing Marcos' words seemed to encourage them, though, and soon others were speaking, most looking at their instructor, as though searching for something that would allay their pain.  
  
But Ranma was in a daze, trying to come to terms with the situation, and thus only partially listened to his students as they rambled on. They talked and talked, trying to exorcise their own demons, and slowly, taking turns, recounted what had happened. How they were standing in line at the mess hall, waiting for their meals after a long, tiring day. They told him of the sudden explosion, the thunderous roar that boomed across the chamber, deafening them and throwing some to the floor in pain, dazed.  
  
And Ranma heard some of their voices crack as they related the moment in which the large metal plating blew off the ceiling, falling over the hapless recruits, who had not the time to jump away. Marcos was the one in charge to narrate the chaos that came after, the cries of the wounded and the blood of those whose luck had run out that evening, the rush and the tears.  
  
A heavy silence followed, and no one dared to break it for a long time, busy reminiscing about their memories of the two boys. Nobody cried nor wailed inconsolably, nor swore to take revenge, nor protested hotly about the unfairness of it all--it was not needed; the sentiment was there all the same.  
  
Eventually Ranma called off the class for the day and sent everyone back to the barracks, and the young cadets left the chamber like a funeral procession. They were not done mourning for their fellow pilots, but time was all they needed. Yet even though their wounds would be healed, there would be a scar in them forever--as there was in him since Akane's death.  
  
Turning off the lights of the training hall, he left, closing the door behind him. He only encountered a few people as he walked down the endless corridors, and simply nodded his head tersely in greeting the one time he saw a familiar face, a young lieutenant who was in one of his morning classes. The man responded in kind, and both continued their separate ways, not a single word spoken. He stepped out of the complex; the false twilight was ending, and swiftly came an equally fake night.  
  
He reached the chainlink fence's main gate and flashed his identification card to the guard, who gave it a quick glance and then moved aside, letting him pass. Two Battloids stood unmoving at both sides of the gate, their Gatlings shouldered. Ranma paid them no attention, and continued onward. As he was leaving, the streetlights lit up, casting his shadow ahead of him into the distance.  
  
Soon enough, he found himself walking through Macross' streets, making his way through the crowds. In striking contrast with the base, the nights at the city were thriving and crowded, and there was a permanent festive atmosphere. Ranma quickened his pace.  
  
He reached the park and went directly to his favorite spot, a secluded bench shaded by the low-hanging branches of an old tree survivor of the fold operation, with a beautiful view of the splashing fountain. Ranma sat, letting the hours lapse into painful memories and regrets, but finally stood up and left, hearing the water flowing away behind him.  
  
By the time he arrived the White Dragon was already closed, although lights could be seen behind the thick curtains. He went in, not bothering to announce himself, and heard muffled sounds coming from the kitchen, letting him know someone was still awake. Not that he had not expected it; Max liked to prepare the restaurant for the morning rush with anticipation, and thus stayed late tidying up the place. The chef always took the time to whip up something for him, too.  
  
Max must have heard him enter, since he came out of the kitchen at once. He was wearing an off-white apron, and he smiled jovially upon noticing the newcomer. "Oh, hi, Ranma. How was your day? Rest while I prepare something fast." He swiftly moved back into the kitchen, and Ranma picked up the sound of clanking woks and sizzling saucepans.  
  
Ranma obediently sat at one of the tables, and not five minutes later Max returned, holding two fried noodle dishes and taking the seat opposite his. "Help yourself, Ranma," he said, handing him one of the dishes and setting the other on the table. "Gosh, you won't believe the day we--" He cut himself short, noting the expression on his guest's face. "What's wrong, son?" Max asked, concerned. "You look upset."  
  
The martial artist remained impassive for a few seconds, but then he met the other man's eyes with his own. "Two of my students died today," Ranma finally answered in a dead voice.  
  
Max caught his breath, shocked, but after staring at the crestfallen youth for a moment, he wordlessly stood up and went behind the counter. When he came back, Ranma saw a bottle of whiskey firmly grasped in one of his massive hands and two glasses held in the other. The restaurateur deftly poured Ranma a large whiskey, and then did the same for himself.  
  
"Here," Max said as he offered Ranma the glass, "have a drink. It may not solve anything, but this has helped me in the past."  
  
Ranma looked at the beverage curiously. Though during the travels with his father and later after leaving Nerima he had drunk sake on a few occasions, he had never felt much affinity for liquors. And yet he found himself now not wishing to think, to remember. Perhaps if he drank sufficient alcohol, his brain would numb enough for it to not hurt so much any more...  
  
Grasping the glass with newfound conviction, Ranma gulped it down, not stopping even for breathing. He set the empty glass on the table, confused at the lack of effect--and taste--of the whiskey. Wasn't it supposed to be strong? Then he felt it: a searing warmth running up his throat, drying his mouth and dulling his senses. Ranma felt as if he were about to vomit fire. He shook his head, trying to clear it, and dizzily decided the drink worked well enough.  
  
Ranma was about to ask for another round, when suddenly someone threw open shop's main doors. Both men turned towards the sound immediately, only to relax as they identified the arrival.  
  
"Hello," came the familiar, normally jaunty voice, albeit unusually hushed at the moment. Rick walked up to the table, eyeing the pair warily. "What's with the booze?"  
  
"Never mind that," Max hastened to respond. He gestured Rick to the chair to his right. "Where've you been, Rick?" he asked with a hint of reproach. "Minmei looked for you the whole day."  
  
Sitting down, Rick began to nervously toy with the half empty bottle of whiskey, self-consciously gazing as the golden liquid within it softly rippled. "I took a walk around the city," the youth at length admitted, "and then I went to the base."   
  
Ranma, who had been lost in his own personal musings until then, now paid close attention to Rick's tale. What reason could he possibly have to go to the base? Perhaps he had gone to visit him? Max just quirked an eyebrow.  
  
"They ran me through a thousand fitness, hearing and eye tests," Rick continued, "and then decided I was good enough to join the Army." He offered them a weak smile, noticing their dumbfounded expressions.  
  
Max was the first to react: he nodded to himself, got up, headed for the counter once more, and returned with another glass, mutely pouring a whiskey for Rick. Ranma, on the contrary, simply stayed frozen in his seat, his mouth agape. "Huh?" he finally reacted. "What? When'd this happen?"  
  
Rick shrugged. "I didn't wanna tell anybody 'til it was final. I thought that I might as well stop idling and start doing something useful." He grinned wistfully. "Who knows? I could even become a hero."   
  
Ranma stared at the young pilot, not quite believing his ears. What had made Rick take this decision? Him, who had been so adamant about it before? He could see right through the cheerful facade, and felt Rick's fears and doubts. Yet he appeared determined even so, and Ranma sensed that nothing would make him change his mind. Why...?  
  
Then, as he was looking at Rick, he witnessed his face changing, shifting. His skin whitened considerably, his features softening while his eyes darkened, until they were two tiny black holes that seemed ready to swallow him. And Ranma realized he wasn't looking at Rick any more, and Greg had taken his place. Greg, who had been his student for merely a few days. Greg, who had showed promise. Greg, for whom he had had great plans. Greg, who had sought revenge. Greg, who had died at the hands of a nameless enemy... He wanted to close his eyes, but they remained transfixed on the face, taking on its every detail as if with a will of their own. And thus he watched Greg's hair abruptly beginning to grow, his eyes changing anew, turning an impossible sapphire. And his lips twisted just so, forming a beautiful little smile he had only seen in dreams for years. And then he saw her...  
  
Suddenly he knew what he had to do.  
  
"Hero?" Ranma sneered at Rick. "Hero my ass! You're more likely to become a corpse!" He gave a short roar of laughter.  
  
"Who asked you, you Jackie Chan wannabe?" Rick riposted, leaving the bottle aside and turning to Ranma, suddenly reanimated. "When it comes to piloting, I'm the best! If it has wings, I can make it dance!"  
  
"Really?" Ranma drawled. "Y'know, I was thinkin' of requesting reassignment for pilot trainin'. If _you_ can make it 'dance,' then it can't be that hard, dontcha think?" He grinned widely.  
  
"Hah! You couldn't pilot a Veritech if your life depended on it. Don't waste your time, old geezer; flying is not for everyone."  
  
"What's the matter? Afraid I'll make ya look bad?" Ranma leaned back in his chair, balancing on its two hind legs and obviously pleased with himself.  
  
"Afraid of you?" Rick repeated mockingly. "Not in a million years! If you really think you can keep up with me, then it's okay. We'll see who's the better man soon enough. But don't come crying later, okay?" Surprisingly, Ranma did not hear any real anger in his voice. In fact, he almost sounded... relieved?  
  
"You got a deal, flyboy!" Ranma held out his hand to Rick, who reluctantly shook it.  
  
From his forgotten position at the table, Max pondered on this new turn of events as he drank his whiskey. After a moment, he shook his head, smiling to himself. He had a feeling those two would do just fine...  
  
---  
  
To be continued... 


End file.
